


Something Special for My Bad Boyfriend

by toxic_corn



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, is it ghosts?, no it's not ghosts it's brahms being a creep, on this webpage we pretend the sequel didn't happen, pre movie au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 82,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxic_corn/pseuds/toxic_corn
Summary: On her summer holidays, Puck Goodfellow goes to stay at Heelshire Manor for what she thinks is going to be a boring week. She thinks she hears a spirit in the walls and tries to communicate with it. Oh, honey. You got a big storm comin'.Takes place before the movie, before Brahms starts wearing the mask, and before the Heelshires start carrying around the creepy doll.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 233





	1. Wrapped Me Up in Your Wire from the Start

“We're almost there,” Ben Cooper shouted over the music blasting from the car stereo.

“Great!” Puck called back. Ben didn't seem to hear her over the nu metal playing and she rolled her eyes, looking out her window. They were on break from school and Puck had had plans to crash at her dad's flat in London, drink with her friends and maybe go see some shows in the West End to drool over the costumes. But Ben... Ben had insisted that she come visit the old family pile in Bumfuck Nowhere for the first week of her vacation and she'd reluctantly agreed. 

Puck glanced back over at Ben. She liked him well enough. He was handsome and fun and everyone at school thought he was great. There was something about him, though, that set Puck on edge. Ben lived his life like he was running for public office, charming everyone around him. It felt weird. The whole school year had felt weird, actually. Early on, Ben had taken it into his head to pursue Puck romantically and as a result, everyone else had fallen back to let it happen. It was annoying; she'd been flirting with a theater major in October who suddenly stopped answering her texts. She didn't know anything for sure but she assumed that it was because of Ben.

A house came into view and Ben exclaimed, “There she is, the old girl!” and Puck just barely resisted rolling her eyes again. She got that he was English but did he have to put on this weird act like he was Bertie Wooster? To distract herself from her irritation, she looked up at the house. It seemed to frown disapprovingly at them, like it knew they went to a school for the arts and were so low that they weren't even gauche enough to be “new money.”

Ben pulled up to a wrought iron gate and parked. He hopped out and bounced around to Puck's side to let her out. His sunny expression turned dark when he saw that Puck was halfway out of the vehicle herself without his assistance.

“Leave your bags here until we say hello to my aunt and uncle,” he said smoothly, trying to cover his annoyance.

Puck wasn't fooled and just nodded at him coldly, letting him lead the way up to the porch where Ben didn't even bother knocking on the door and just threw it open. “Hello!” he called cheerfully. “Aunt Belinda! Uncle Roland!”

The place was so dark compared to the bright sunshine. How could that be? There were clearly windows and they were all open but a dull gloom still seemed to hang over everything. Puck looked around at the antique furniture and the tasteful artwork on the walls and tried to cheer herself up; a place like this had to have ghosts at least. If it was going to be scary, it may as well be cool, too.

A woman with gray hair and a pinched expression on her face walked into the room. She literally clutched at the pearls hanging around her neck. “Benjamin!” she exclaimed.

“Surprise!” Ben said cheerfully. He crossed to his aunt and gave her a big kiss on the cheek that seemed to discombobulate her further. “I've come to spend the hols with you. You don't mind, do you? I haven't seen you and Uncle Roland in ages.”

“Oh,” his aunt said faintly. “How... nice. It's lovely to see you, Benjamin. You've brought a friend?” She looked at Puck with curiosity and a little concern as well.

“Ah, let me formally introduce you,” he said. “Aunt Belinda, this is my classmate, Puck Goodfellow. Puck, this is my aunt, Belinda Heelshire.”

“Puck,” Aunt Belinda said, a smile touching one corner of her mouth. “Does that mean...?”

“My given name's Robin,” Puck said, nodding.

Ben looked between the two of them, frowning. “I'm sorry?”

“It's Shakespeare,” Aunt Belinda said. “Robin Goodfellow was one of the fairies in a Midsummer Night's Dream. Also called 'Puck.' Are your parents thespians?”

“No.” Puck laughed. “My mother and father both work in health care; they just can't resist a pun.”

Belinda smiled and then turned worried eyes to Ben. “I wish you'd called ahead, I- I'm afraid not much is ready for you...”

“Oh, Puck and I aren't picky,” Ben said. “You can just put us up in the room I always had when I came to stay as a lad.”

“Two rooms,” Puck said quickly, earning herself a dirty look from Ben that she chose to ignore. “If that's okay?” The house was enormous; of course there was room. She didn't care if it was filled with dust and moths, there was no way she'd be sharing a bed with Ben Cooper until she was good and god damned ready. 

“Of course,” Belinda said with an approving gleam in her eye. “Did you bring any luggage with you?”

“It's in the car,” Ben said smoothly. “We just wanted to come in first and say hello. Did you need help preparing dinner? Puck is a whiz in the kitchen.”

“I've already got everything started,” Belinda said. “There should be enough for all of us. How... how long were you planning on staying, Benjamin?”

“Oh, a week or two,” he said casually.

Puck looked at him sharply. He'd told her one week. She'd packed enough clothing for one week. She'd told all her friends she'd be gone for one week. So god damn it, she'd be staying for one week and she'd walk her ass back to London if she had to. Why had this seemed like a good idea? To be fair, it hadn't. Ben had wheedled and cajoled and teased her into accepting his invitation. Now here he was trying to get them placed in the same room when she wasn't even his girlfriend.

Following him out to the car for their luggage, she made a mental note to lock her door that night.

~*~

Brahms stood at the window and watched as the girl and his cousin took their bags out of the boot of the car. His heart pounded wildly. It had been over ten years since he'd seen Ben at his birthday party, ten years since Brahms had felt the air on his face, ten years since he'd begun living in the walls of his ancestral home. His hand tightened on the window pane. The only good thing about his living arrangements had been never having to see Ben again.

His eyes moved to the girl and lingered there. Puck. She stood to Ben's shoulder and Ben wasn't a short man. Her wavy, glossy black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, strands loose in the front to frame her face. The brightly colored summer dress she wore exposed her olive skin, especially her long, smooth, shiny legs. He watched as she accepted her bag from Ben's extended hand, sharply jerking back when their fingers touched. Ben's face soured but switched to a sunny smile when she looked at him again and said something.  


Well. That was interesting. Someone who didn't like his cousin, either.  


Brahms stepped back from the window and crept back into the walls, curious to see what this unexpected visit would bring.

~*~

As they carried their luggage up the stairs, Puck glanced up at the family portrait of Ben's aunt and uncle with a little boy. “Is that you?” she asked Ben.  


“No,” Ben said disinterestedly, not even looking. “That's my cousin Brahms. He died in a fire here about ten years ago.”  


“Oh my god,” Puck said and looked back up at the picture. “Poor little thing.”  


“He was a murderer,” Ben said. “Don't spend too much time mourning him.”  


Puck boggled at Ben's back. “What the... he looks like he's five! How could he murder anyone?”  


“He may have been five in the portrait but he grew up,” Ben said, sounding amused. “He bashed in a little girl's head with a rock on his eighth birthday. Beastly little creature. I never liked him.”  


_Being unlikable must run in the family_ , Puck thought. Out loud she said, “Still. I'm sorry. That must have been hard for your family.”  


“Quite,” he said. They'd reached the landing and he walked her to a room that he shouldered open and then gestured with his bag. “This room's as good as any. My mother would sleep here when we'd come to visit. It has its own bathroom. Most of these rooms do, of course. I'll just be down the hall if you want to freshen up. Then we'll go down and see where Uncle Roland has hidden himself.”  


“Okay, great. Thanks,” Puck said. She watched him tromp down the hallway and then stepped into the room herself. It was decorated in muted tones, nothing she would have picked out herself. At her mother's home back in the States, she had painted her walls teal. Her mom had teased her, calling it a mermaid room but Puck didn't care. She liked mermaids. And color. And light. Everything that was basically the opposite of this house.  


Heaving a huge sigh, Puck dropped her suitcase onto the bed and cracked it open for her toiletry bag. She pulled out her hairbrush and then tugged the hair tie holding her hair back. She made a face; she'd had short hair most of her life but had grown it out as an experiment to see how she liked it. She didn't. Her hair fell down around her shoulders and she stepped over to the large mirror over the bureau to begin brushing her hair out. After four strokes, she felt goosebumps begin to prickle up and down her arms. She slowed and then stopped, glancing behind her in the glass. Nothing was there.  


So why did it feel like someone was watching her?  


Her heart beat sped up as she turned and glanced around the room. She was on the upper floor; it wouldn't make sense for someone to be peering in the window at her. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and then called out in a low tone, “Hello?”  


Of course, no one answered. She waited a few more moments and then went into the bathroom. Shutting the door, the creepy feeling went away immediately and Puck released a shaky breath before crossing to the sink to finish brushing her hair.

~*~

Brahms clapped a hand to his mouth to hold in the startled “What?” he nearly said out loud when Puck called out to him. How could she possibly know he was there? No one ever noticed him. Not his parents, not Malcolm when he brought deliveries. He should probably be more careful about his spying so he wouldn't get caught. He'd made it this long without being found out, why not ten more years of relative peace from the outside world? There was something about this girl beyond her beauty; she was aware of her surroundings. She was present in a way that nothing in this house was. Brahms and his parents lived in the past, all of them mentally re-living the day Emily Cribbs had died. This girl, this Robin Goodfellow, with her long legs and red dress was about to upset the inertia of their household.  


And Ben was the one to blame. Hate curled up in his chest, hardening his heart. He turned angrily away from his peephole into Puck's room and strode back to his own main living area where he could sulk until he could eavesdrop on dinner.


	2. Say What Sugar?

Mr. Heelshire came in shortly before dinner was ready. His eyes widened at the sight of Ben and Puck. It almost looked like fright but then his expression smoothed over and he warmly greeted the two of them. He shook their hands and seemed almost excited to see them, though he glanced often at his wife with a question in his eyes. She pretended not to notice.

 _What a weird family._ Puck took her seat at the table when instructed to by Aunt Belinda and Ben sat down beside her. 

“Did you just get in?” Mr. Heelshire asked as he took his place at the head of the table.

“Almost an hour ago,” Ben replied. “What have you been up to, Uncle Roland?”

“Oh, doing a few chores here and there and then I took a walk,” he replied.

“Your property's really beautiful,” Puck spoke up. “It's nice to see so much area untouched. All the trees and things.”

Roland beamed. “Why, thank you, Ms. Goodfellow! I've left the land just as it was in my great great grandfather's days. There's always the pressure to sell to developers but I'm not quite ready to let the place go yet. Not quite yet.” His smile faded and he looked sad.

Not really sure what to do, Puck looked to Ben for help. He stepped in smoothly and said, “I'd be happy to help you with some of the landscaping work, Uncle Roland. I'm here as long as you'd like me to be.”

“I appreciate that a great deal, dear boy,” Roland said quietly. “We haven't had much help around here. Malcolm does a bit here and there but that's not really his job.”

“Malcolm?” Puck asked.

“The grocery boy,” Ben said. “My aunt and uncle have taken a shine to him. He's the same age that Brahms would be today if he hadn't...” Puck wanted to kick him for that mention of his dead cousin because Roland Heelshire's shoulders slumped.

“He sounds nice,” Puck said in an attempt to change the subject. “How often does he come to visit you?”

Roland Heelshire gave her a grateful look. “Once a week. He'll be here Wednesday. With more people in the house, however, we might have to order more often.”

“Oh, I hope we aren't a burden,” Puck said quickly.

“Not at all, not at all.” Roland waved his hands. “We're happy for the company.”

Belinda began bringing in the meal and turned down Puck's offers to help. They ate roast beef, mashed potatoes, and peas in near silence. It should have been awkward but instead it felt almost comfortable. Puck liked the Heelshires, the sad old people alone in their old house. It would probably be better for them if they _did_ sell to a developer and get a place in town, be around more people and quit living in misery. But this was the place where their son had died and they weren't ready to leave him just yet.

 _Maybe he's still here._ The little hairs on her arms began to stand up as she felt that unshakable sensation of being watched. She looked up at everyone around her but they were all eating and looking at their plates. Besides, she felt the gaze of someone burning between her shoulder blades. She turned and looked in puzzlement at the wall. What was she really looking for, though? The specter of a burned eight year old standing there, waving and cheerfully saying hello? Embarrassed at herself, she turned to face forward again.

“What are you studying in school, Puck?” Belinda asked.

“I want to be a costume designer,” Puck replied.

Belinda looked genuinely delighted. “Why, how lovely. Like sewing gowns and things?”

“Yes. My high school last year put on a production of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and I helped make the costumes for that. It was a lot of fun.” She took a sip of her wine then continued, “This year I helped with Dangerous Liasons. I had to do a lot of research into 18th century French fashion. I wish we still dressed that way, honestly.” She smiled when Belinda laughed and nodded her agreement.

“Men's fashion was much more interesting then,” Belinda said. “Everything now is so dull.”

Ben laughed. “Now, now. Men are present, Aunt Belinda.”

Mr. Heelshire's eyes twinkled. “Maybe we should search the attic for cravats to wear, dear boy. Then maybe we'll stop boring the women.”

As they laughed, there was a sudden slam from inside the walls that made them fall silent. Puck looked back over her shoulder. “What was that?” she asked.

Roland cleared his throat, not looking at her. “Rats. We get them from time to time. I've got traps set up all over the grounds but some still manage to sneak in. I'd be careful if I were you, I wouldn't want you to get bitten. Keep to your room at night and don't go investigating the sounds they make.”

“They must be large rats,” Puck said, raising her eyebrows.

“Indeed,” he replied and that was the last he'd comment on the subject.

~*~

“We'll do something fun tomorrow, I promise,” Ben said as they walked upstairs to bed.

She was ready to go to sleep, having been bored to tears by watching Ben and his uncle play chess. It wouldn't have been so terrible if his aunt had stayed in the room but she'd excused herself and gone upstairs shortly after dinner. Puck probably should have done the same but wasn't eager to go anywhere by herself, nervous of the rats and the possible ghost. She was fascinated by the idea of ghosts and consumed ghost hunting television shows and accounts of paranormal activity but now that she was presented with the possibility of it being real, she wasn't ready to see it. Definitely not at night, at least.

“Maybe you could show me the grounds in the morning?” Puck asked. 

“Brilliant,” Ben said. “We can look for the old croquet set, too.”

“I've never actually played croquet before. You'll have to teach me.”

Ben smiled at her warmly. “I'd love to.”

They arrived at the door of her room. Puck gave him an uncertain look and then said. “Listen. Um, I wanted to talk to you...”

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“You know that we're just friends, right? That we're not...?” Puck felt her face getting hot. “I mean, I like you and everything but I don't... We're not...”

Ben sighed and leaned against the door frame. “Puck, I know that you aren't interested yet. I think you'll change your mind though, once you get to know me.” He tilted his head, all boyish charm. “You can't blame me for trying, right?”

“Well, it's just what you said earlier about sharing a room,” Puck said uneasily.

“Follow me,” he said crisply and turned and walked away.

For a moment, Puck wanted to tell him to fuck himself but she followed him down the hall to his room. He pushed the door open and switched on a light, gesturing that she look inside. She stepped into the doorway and looked. There were two beds in the room.

“I wasn't expecting you to share my bed,” Ben said gently. “I was thinking more about the inconvenience of my aunt having to air out and prepare two bedrooms. I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable, though. You weren't to know.”

Even if there were two beds, it was still awkward to share a room with someone you didn't know very well. She didn't feel like pressing the point anymore so she just nodded.

“Okay. I like having my own room, though. I had to share with Stef all year and it's nice to have my own space.”

“Understood.” Ben nodded once. “Well. Goodnight, Puck. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Right. Goodnight.” Puck went back to her room and shut and locked the door. Then she unpacked her clothes into one of the dressers and picked out her t-shirt and sleep shorts. After showering, she dried her hair and changed into her pajamas. She was planning on working on her embroidery before going to bed but the second she stepped out of the bathroom, she felt that presence again.

“Hello?” she called, low. “Is someone there?”

There was no reply. Puck's mouth went dry. Oh god, she should just pretend like she couldn't sense anything and then huddle under the covers until morning. She didn't think she could ignore this, though. Clasping both hands over her beating heart, she took a few more tentative steps into the bedroom.

“Can you hear me?” she croaked and then cleared her throat. “If... if you can hear me, can you make some sign? Like, um, god, I... I don't...” She pulled herself together. “Okay, knock once if you can hear me.”

There was a long stretch of silence but the presence didn't go away. Puck stood there, tense and waiting, unsure how long she was going to wait and what she'd do if there was a response.

Finally, there was a knock. Puck stopped breathing and swayed on her feet. Before she could collapse, she grasped the bedpost with a gasp. She crouched on the mattress, shaking.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. Fuck. Okay.” She licked her lips. “Knock once for yes, twice for no. Are you Brahms Heelshire?”

One knock.

“Did you knock at dinner?”

There was some hesitation and then one knock.

“Do you want me out of your house?”

Two knocks. They came quickly and made Puck smile a little through her fear.

“Okay. Good. I didn't want to offend you.” She sat down more comfortably on her bed, folding her legs under her. “Do your parents know you're here?”

One knock.

“Does Ben?”

Two knocks. Again, they came quickly but it was different from his last answer in the negative. Before, he'd been rushing to reassure her that she wasn't a bother. This felt more urgent.

“Do you want Ben to know you're here?”

Two knocks.

“Okay. I won't tell him, then.” She thought what to ask next, but all the questions rushing through her mind couldn't be answered with a simple yes or no. “Can you speak?”

He didn't answer for a long time. Finally there was one quiet knock.

“But you don't want to,” Puck said softly.

One knock.

“Okay.” Puck rubbed at her eyes and sighed tiredly. “If you change your mind, I'd be wiling to listen. I'm really tired and need to go to bed. The drive here was really long.” She pulled back the covers and got nestled down. “Goodnight, Brahms.”

She switched off the light and that creepy watchful feeling faded away as she waited for sleep to claim her.

~*~

In the morning, Puck rose to find the day bright and sunny, perfect for their planned game of croquet. She dressed in the bathroom and called to Brahms when she entered her bedroom again but he didn't answer. Both relieved and disappointed, Puck went downstairs and joined Belinda Heelshire in the kitchen. She was poking at sausage and eggs in a pan, humming to herself.

“I can help you with breakfast,” Puck said, startling the older woman into jumping. “I'm sorry!”  


Belinda laughed awkwardly, a hand pressed to her chest. “No, no, it's all right. I'm not used to having anyone in the kitchen with me. If you'd like to start the toast, I'd appreciate it.”  


“Sure. I'm great at making toast,” she joked. Belinda smiled at her feebly as Puck picked up the loaf of bread from the counter. “It's so quiet here. I slept really well. I didn't think I would since I'm used to all the noise in London.”  


“I'm glad to hear it.” Belinda turned down the heat on the stove top. “How long have you known Ben?”  


“Only since September.” She laughed, embarrassed. She slid four slices of bread into the toaster's slots, glad of something to do so she wouldn't have to look at Ben's aunt. “He sort of glommed onto me. He's nice, though. Everyone likes him.”  


“Do you like him?” Belinda asked pointedly.  


Puck swallowed. “He's nice.”  


“Yes. He is.” Belinda gave the sausages a poke. “He's the kind of boy who should only remain a friend, though. Don't you think?”  


What was happening here? Was Belinda warning her off of Ben because she wasn't good enough for him? Or maybe Ben wasn't good enough for her? “Um...” Puck said, completely out of her element.  


Belinda turned and grasped Puck's hand, voice going low. “You're a very lovely young woman. You have a bright future ahead of you. A very bright future which should not include this house. See if you can talk Ben into taking you to the sea side or to France. Anywhere but here. Please?”  


“I'm not gonna marry him!” Puck squeaked out, trying to work her hand loose. “Jesus!”  


“Morning!” Ben entered the room and Belinda turned back to the stove, acting as if nothing happened. Ben noted Puck's flushed face and how she held onto her wrist. “What's going on?”  


“We're making breakfast,” Belinda said cheerfully. “Puck was just helping me.”  


The toast popped up in the toaster and Puck cleared her throat. “There's my contribution right now.”  


“Lovely.” Ben sat down at the breakfast table and folded his hands, happy to let the women wait on him. He watched Puck carefully and didn't relax, even when she attempted giving him a reassuring smile.

~*~

“Are you sure you're all right?” Ben asked after breakfast. They'd gone down to the basement to look for the croquet set.

Puck glanced back at the stairs. The door above was open and she had no idea if his aunt was nearby to eavesdrop. She kept her voice low and said, “Your aunt was telling me that we should leave.”

Ben looked up from shifting a box and paused. “Did she really?”

“Yeah. You need to take me to France, apparently. Anywhere but here.”

“That's odd,” Ben said slowly. “Did she tell you why?”

Puck shrugged. “Because I have a bright future? Oh, and you're only supposed to stay a friend.”

“Good god. What absolute fucking snobbery.” Ben angrily moved a box aside. “Just because I'm a Heelshire and bring home an American theater student, she thinks--”

“But you're not a Heelshire,” Puck pointed out. “You're a Cooper.”

“You know what I mean,” he said stiffly. He opened a box and sifted through it. “Here's the croquet set.”

“Are you mad at me?” Puck bit her lip. She didn't think she could tolerate this house if his aunt was going to be weird and he was going to be angry with her.

Ben gave her a sheepish look. “No. Just... No. We're fine. Help me with this box, will you?”

~*~

Brahms watched as Ben and Puck set up wickets on the lawn. He and Emily used to play croquet. It had been fun, their mothers nearby drinking lemonade and calling out encouragement. He wished he was out on the lawn with Puck, that he was the one instructing her on the game, lightly touching her arm. She was dressed in a jean skirt and a purple and pink striped t-shirt that lifted up in the back when she bent, displaying a line of golden skin. His fingertips itched to trace along there, to distract her from her shot so she'd turn and playfully slap him on the arm, telling him to stop cheating.  


He hated seeing Ben with her, but he had to keep an eye out. He had to make sure that nothing happened to this girl. He didn't do enough last time and now was his chance to step up, to save someone else from Ben and his influence. So Brahms gritted his teeth and watched their croquet game until his mother called them in for lunch.

~*~

By the time Puck was ready for bed, she was even more exhausted than she'd been the night before. After their croquet game they'd had lunch and then walked all over the grounds, exploring the woods and admiring what was left of the gardens. She was so tired, she'd even let Ben kiss her on the cheek before they parted in the hallway. She still locked her door, though. It just seemed like a good idea.  


All she wanted to do was soak in the tub and read. Once she got the water running, she got her pajamas together then paused. Brahms was near. “Hello?” she called.  


There was one single knock.  


“Hi, Brahms.” She sat down on the bed and sighed. “I'm really tired but I can talk for awhile. Did you need something from me?”  


He paused and then knocked once.  


“Okay. Ugh. Let me think.” She dropped her face into her hand, fingers rubbing her forehead. “I just want to ask what it is you want but you can't really answer that yes or no and you've refused to speak so...”  


They sat in silence for awhile. She glanced into the bathroom but the tub hadn't overfilled so she stayed sitting. “Your mother wants us to go. Do you want us to go too?”  


He didn't answer. She could still sense that he was there, though.  


“Okay. You told me last night that you didn't mind having me here. Does that mean that you want Ben gone?”  


He knocked once.  


“Wow. Okay. But you... want me to stay?”  


A very soft knock.  


“Brahms.” Puck smiled sadly. “Are you lonely?”  


Another soft knock.  


She drew in a breath, her eyes welling with tears. “I'm sorry.”  


“Don't,” a little voice said softly. “Don't cry.”  


Puck fell still. “Oh my god.”  


“Don't cry over me,” the child's voice said. “I'm not worth it.”  


Puck's breath came in hard, frightened pants. A ghost. A real ghost, communicating with her through the walls. Sure, he'd been knocking but even that had felt unreal in the light of day, especially since he hadn't knocked that morning. A voice was harder to dismiss, harder to chalk up to rats shifting in the walls.  


“Brahms? Are you...? Did...?”  


“I think your tub's about to overflow,” he said, sounding apologetic.  


“Shit!” Puck jumped up and raced into the bathroom where water was just beginning to spill down the sides. Hissing, she slid to her knees and turned the taps off. She opened the drain and let some of the water out as she grabbed some towels and mopped up the mess. Once the bath water was at a reasonable level and the floor was dry, she went back into the bedroom.  


“Is everything all right?” Brahms asked.  


“Yes. Thanks for the heads up.” Puck dropped to the bed again. “So, um. Why do you need Ben to go?”  


“He's bad,” Brahms said flatly. “He's done bad things.”  


“As bad as you?” Puck said without thinking. When Brahms didn't reply, she winced. “Sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. But... but he did tell me that you killed a little girl.”  


“Emily.” His voice sounded sad.  


“I didn't know her name.” Puck picked up her pajamas from next to her to have something to hold onto. “Why did you kill her?”  


“I didn't want to,” Brahms's voice broke.  


Puck's heart hurt. “Oh, honey. What happened? Can you tell me?”  


“I can't. You might not talk to me anymore.”  


“Hey.” Puck set her pajamas aside and stood up, squaring her jaw. “You don't need to tell me anything that you don't want to share. Okay? But any time you need someone to listen, I'm here. Even if I'm asleep, you can wake me up. I'm not going to stop talking to you. I already know you've killed someone but I'm still talking to you, right?”  


Brahms didn't reply right away. Finally he said, “Your bath's going to get cold.”  


She sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I'll talk to you later, then.”  


“Bye, Puck.”  


“Bye, Brahms.”  


She didn't stay in the bath long, only washing and then shaving. Once she was dried and dressed she came back to her room but didn't feel Brahms nearby anymore. Glum and confused, she got under her covers and switched out the light.


	3. It's Wild the Way You Reach Me

It poured rain the next day so they were confined to the house. The Heelshires didn't have a television and no internet so Puck and Ben had to find other ways to occupy themselves. Ben played chess with his uncle and Puck curled up nearby on the sofa with her embroidery.  


“What's that you're working on?” Belinda asked.  


Ever since Belinda had grabbed her and ordered her to leave the house, Puck had done her best to avoid Belinda and kept speaking to her to a minimum. She stiffened when Belinda spoke and caught the regret on Belinda's face. Puck willed herself to relax but found she couldn't.  


“Oh. It's... this embroidery.” She held up the hoop. “I'm re-creating my mom's garden back home. See? There's lots of hummingbirds because she's got a feeder set up.”  


Belinda smiled. “How lovely. Where's your home, may I ask?”  


“Well, I have two homes.” Puck lowered her head and went back to her needlework. “My parents divorced when I was a little kid. My mom lives in Seattle and I went to school there and spent the summers here in England with my dad. When I graduated high school, I decided to go to university here.”  


“Oh.” Belinda looked awkward. “I'm sorry.”  


“Why?” Puck gave her a quizzical look before she figured it out for herself. “Oh! Don't be. My parents are way better apart than they ever were together. They do a good job co-parenting us.”  


“Us?”  


“I've got three younger brothers.”  


Belinda smiled. “Four children! Your mother must have had her work cut out for her. There were four children in my family as well. Ben's my oldest sister's child.”  


Ben had his elbow on the table, his head resting on his fist as he stared at the chess board. He glanced over at the women with a smile in his eyes. “Guilty.”  


Puck remembered Brahms's words last night about Ben being bad and couldn't bring herself to smile back. She did her best to look absorbed in her work and it must have come across that way because Ben returned his focus to the chess board, contemplating his next move.  


The sounds of a car approached the house and came to a stop outside. Puck looked up questioningly as Belinda set her book down.  


“That's Malcolm with the groceries. Would you like to help us unpack in the kitchen, Puck?”  


“Sure.” Puck placed her embroidery hoop on a side table and stood. She noticed that Ben was sitting up straight now and watching her.  


They entered the kitchen just as the door opened and a young man roughly Puck's age came in holding a wooden box. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Heelshire!”  


“Malcolm,” she said warmly. “How are you?”  


“I'm well, thanks.” He set the box on the counter and looked at Puck curiously. He was actually really cute, with longish brown hair and dimples in his cheeks.  


Belinda glanced at Puck. “Our nephew Ben's come to visit. You remember Ben, don't you?”  


Malcolm's friendly smile widened. “Ben's here?”  


“He is.” Ben appeared in the doorway and came over to Malcolm. “How are you, Malc?” They hugged in a manly fashion with lots of back slapping that both looked and sounded painful. When they parted, Ben nodded at Puck. “This is my friend from school, Puck Goodfellow.”  


Malcolm put out a hand and Puck shook it. “Good to meet you, Puck. I'm Malcolm.”  


“Hi.” Puck smiled and noticed that it took a moment for Malcolm to let go of her hand. He must have been encouraged to show interest since she'd only been introduced as Ben's “friend.” It had been months since someone had openly admired her and glancing at Ben now, she figured that she'd better enjoy this while it lasted. “I like your shirt.”  


He glanced down at the black Rolling Stones t-shirt he wore under his unzipped hoodie. “Thanks! I've always been more of a Stones man than a Beatles one.”  


“The Stones are cool but my favorite British band has always been the Kinks.” Puck grinned when Malcolm's face lit up.  


“They're brilliant! 'Picture Book' is the absolute best—” He stopped when Mrs. Heelshire delicately cleared her throat. “Er. I've got more boxes to bring in, maybe we could--?”  


Puck stepped forward. “I could help. I've been cooped up inside all day, I'm going nuts.”  


Malcolm looked hesitant but Mrs. Heelshire said, “Go on, then. You can wear my jacket if you'd like. It's hanging on the hook by the door.”  


“Thanks!” Puck said cheerfully. She pretended not to notice how stormy Ben's face was while she slipped the coat on. It was a little small since she was so much taller than Belinda but it worked just fine. She gave Belinda a thumbs up and followed Malcolm out the door.  


Puck took a deep breath once they were outside. “Thanks for giving me an excuse to leave. I've never regretted a decision so much in my life, coming to this house.”  


Malcolm gave her a sympathetic smile. “It's been a house of mourning for a long time.”  


“I know.” She followed Malcolm to the car. “Listen, Ben mentioned something about his cousin, Brahms. He said that he killed a little girl.”  


“Emily Cribbs.” Malcom grabbed for a box in the boot of his car and scooted it closer. He hesitated. “How much did he tell you?”  


“That Brahms beat her head in with a rock at his eighth birthday party.”  


“Well. That's the story, really.”  


“Yeah, but, why?” Puck burst out. “It doesn't make any sense, does it? Do kids that young really kill?”  


Malcolm nodded solemnly. “It's not completely unheard of. There was Mary Bell and those two boys in Liverpool off the top of my head.”  


“Ugh.” Puck shook her head. “It makes me sick. They weren't able to find out from him why he did it? What set him off?”  


“The fire happened shortly afterward.” Malcolm sighed and picked up the box. “No one got a chance to speak to Brahms about it. He didn't say much after it happened.”  


Puck felt cold through and through and it had nothing to do with the rain. “Malcolm. Were you at that party?”  


He slowly nodded.  


“Oh, how awful.” Puck sucked in air and awkwardly fumbled for a box, trying not to cry. “I'm sorry. I swear I'm not trying to be ghoulish for asking. I'm staying here and... and I can feel all this sadness in the air and I don't feel right asking any of them about it since they're so close to it and--”  


“It's all right,” Malcolm said gently. “Don't worry, Puck.”  


“Okay.” She sniffed. “We'd better go back inside. They're going to wonder why it's taking so long for us to carry in two boxes.”  


Malcolm chuckled. “Right.”  


Mrs. Heelshire had begun making tea as they came in the door and Ben was in the process of unloading the box Malcolm had already brought in. Between the three of them, they got everything unpacked and then sat down at the table for tea. Mr. Heelshire joined them and it actually felt a little festive, Mr. Heelshire and Malcolm chatting while Ben put in a word now and then. Puck did her best to relax and tried not to think of the murderous little child ghost upstairs.

~*~

Brahms watched his family around the table with Malcolm and Puck. A lump formed in his throat. He should be out there with them. He'd always liked Malcolm; he'd been one of the few boys who hadn't tormented him in school. It ached a little to see the way he looked at Puck but better that Malcolm should be with her than Ben. He turned and went back to his room as his tears began to fall.

~*~

Puck retreated to her room once Malcolm left. Ben and Roland had returned to their chess game and Belinda had picked up her book once more. Grabbing her embroidery and making an excuse that she had a headache and wanted to lay down for awhile, Puck finally closed the door on the Heelshires and their grief. She exhaled a long, slow breath and sat down on her bed.  


“Brahms?” she called, just to be sure. She didn't sense anything but it didn't hurt to ask. He didn't answer and she flopped backwards, staring up at the ceiling. Why did ghosts exist? Did they have unfinished business? Was Brahms's unfinished business the fact that no one knew why he'd killed Emily?  


With an annoyed sigh, Puck sat up again. She didn't want to think about it anymore. It occurred to her that she should check in with her parents. Her phone didn't get a signal out here so she'd have to use the land line. There was a phone on her bedside table so she reached for it and dialed her dad's cell phone number by memory. It went to voice mail. No surprise there, he was always busy.  


“This is Dr. Ethan Goodfellow. Please leave a message.”  


“Hi, Daddy,” Puck said, making her voice cheerful. “I made it to my friend's house okay. I left the address on the fridge and now you have the number. My phone doesn't work out here so you'll have to call this number if you want to talk to me. I'll be home next week. I love you. Bye.” She hung up and sighed. Then she picked up the line again and called her mother's number.  


She picked up on the second ring. “Good fucking Christ, Robin, when were you thinking of calling me??? Huh?? It's been two days!”  


“I'm sorry, I didn't realize they had no reception out here until it was too late. I talked to the Heelshires in the morning and they said it was okay for me to use their phone to call you long distance. They told me that their phone connection's spotty at best. I'm sorry, Momma.”  


Her mother sighed. “Okay, okay. I worry, you know?”  


Of course she worried. Her mother worried about her every second of every day. Puck had hated it her whole life until she decided to move to England. Puck had embarrassed herself by spending her first night in the dorm, her first night of her new life away from her mother, curled up on her bed, weeping.  


“I know, Momma. I'm sorry.”  


Something in her tone must have given her away because her mom said gently, “Puckle Juice, are you okay, baby?”  


Puck's lip wobbled and she moved the phone away to clear her throat and get a grip. “Yeah, I'm fine. I just hate making you worry.”  


“Yeah, well.” Her mother sighed. “Your nonnie's always telling me I need to be less of a helicopter parent. Easy for her to say, she was the most hands off parent even for her generation. Anyway. How are you liking the country? Is it boring?”  


“Not boring enough, actually.” Puck laughed. “There's some family drama here.”  


“Gross.” Her mother muttered something to someone near her and then said, “Try to stay out of as much of it as you can. Listen, baby, I'm on my break and I have to go. Be good okay? Love you much.”  


“Love you, too. Bye.”  


“Bye bye, baby.”  


Puck hung up the phone and actually felt a little bit better. Smiling, she settled back on her bed and picked up her hoop again, embroidering the leaves of her mother's rose bush.

~*~

When Brahms felt well enough to talk to Puck, she was asleep. He was disappointed to find that her room was so dark he couldn't even see her. Sulking, he peered through his peep hole and could just make out the lump she made under the covers. Her breathing was slow and steady. She appeared to be deeply asleep.  


He hesitated and then moved to his secret door that led through her closet. Walking softly, he made no noise as he entered the room. She didn't stir as he approached her bed soundlessly.  


A scant bit of moonlight peered in through a part in the curtains. It lit up her hair line, drawing his focus. Unable to resist, he reached out a shaking hand and just barely touched a finger tip to her glossy, shiny hair.  


“Mmm?” she murmured, shifting.  


Brahms snatched his hand back. He watched as she frowned, her head jerking to the side.  


“Brahms?” she said drowsily.  


By the time she blinked herself awake and sat up in bed, he was back in his hiding place, heart racing.  


“Hello?” she whispered. “Brahms?”  


“Go back to sleep,” Brahms replied back in his child's voice.  


“Did you need something?” Puck asked. Her words slurred a little, not quite fully awake yet.  


He was about to tell her no when he thought back to the afternoon, at the way she and Malcolm looked at one another. “Do you like Malcolm more than me?”  


Puck yawned. “I've only just met him. I don't know if I like him yet.”  


“Do you like me?” Brahms insisted.  


She didn't answer and he felt his heart sink. He was turning away when she said quietly, “Yeah. I think I do.”  


“Thank you,” Brahms said, his voice cracking.  


“You're welcome, hon.” Puck laid back down. “Anything else?”  


Brahms shook his head then said, “No. That's all that was worrying me.”  


“Okay.”  


He waited but she'd fallen back to sleep. He went back to his living area and tucked himself into bed. He suddenly smiled widely. Puck liked him but she didn't like Ben. His cousin could just put that in his pipe and smoke it. Switching off the light, he flopped backwards onto his lumpy mattress and went straight to sleep.


	4. I Sting Like a Bee

The next day was overcast but the rain had stopped so Puck and Ben went for a run on the grounds and then did some of the yard work Ben had promised he would do. Puck actually had fun; she'd always enjoyed being active. She'd played all kinds of sports since childhood up until she tore her rotator cuff her junior year playing tennis. That's when she turned her focus to the drama classes she'd always taken and discovered her love for costuming in particular. She'd eventually healed but she'd cooled it on competitive sports. Still, she took time out to take a run or a bike ride when she could.  


“It was nice to see Malcolm the other day,” Ben said casually, clearing away some fallen branches that had landed in a dry fountain. A stone angel loomed above them, covered in moss.  


“Were you friends as kids or something?” Puck asked.  


“Oh, no.” Ben laughed. “No, we became friendly once we were adults. I hardly saw Malcolm when we were children. He lived in the village and I spent most of my time here at the house. I heard plenty about him, though.”  


“Oh.” She hoped if she didn't seem interested and failed to ask a follow up question, he'd stop talking. She knelt on the ground and began yanking handfuls of weeds out of one of the overgrown garden beds.  


Ben lowered his voice and Puck had to roll her eyes. Who was going to hear them? The fountain angel? “Malcolm liked kissing girls behind the groundskeeper's shed. It was a new girl every week. So many little girls ended up crying because Malcolm had broken their heart.” Ben chuckled. “Can you imagine? He was such a little twerp, too. I'm sure all of those girls feel foolish now for ever pining over him.”  


Puck gave him a dirty look but his back was to her as he broke down the tree branch for kindling. “If they even remember.”  


“Which is doubtful,” Ben agreed. He added musingly, “He may have even kissed Emily once.”  


For a moment, Puck paused. Why was he telling her this? Did he want her to think that Brahms had killed Emily because he was jealous that she'd kissed Malcolm? That seemed like something a grown man would do, not a little boy.  


“I'd have kissed Malcolm,” Puck said, not knowing what else to say. Ben turned and she was satisfied to see that she'd startled him. “He's cute. I bet he was adorable when he was eight. Even if he was a twerp.”  


Ben stared at her. “You'd have--”  


Puck stood, clapping the dirt off of her hands. “Emily had good taste.” She beamed at Ben's unsmiling face. “Lunch is soon. I think I'm gonna go clean up first.”  


“All right,” Ben muttered.  


As Puck walked away, she muttered under her breath, “Gossipy bitch.”

~*~

Brahms had spent the afternoon in the attic, looking through his old baby pictures but stopped when he heard Puck and Ben outside. He watched them as they worked a little bit in the garden. From her body language, it was clear that Puck was getting upset with Ben. What was he saying to her? Knowing Ben, it could be anything. He was good at finding your weak spots and then digging in. Then when you got upset, he'd play innocent and everyone around you would tell you to stop being so sensitive.  


Puck suddenly broke away and headed for the house. Brahms perked up. Maybe she would talk to him for awhile? It would be nice to have a conversation that lasted longer than a few minutes. He carefully got down out of the attic and folded up the stairs before ducking into one of his secret passages. By the time he was entering her room through the closet, Puck was already in the shower. He saw her discarded running leggings and lime green t-shirt on the floor. Knowing she was naked in the other room, his gut clenched with want. He'd never actually seen a nude woman in real life before.  


He clenched his fists, debating with himself. He really shouldn't peep on her. But... what was the harm in one look? Just one. At least to see her breasts. He swallowed hard. He approached the bathroom door and hoped she hadn't locked it. He turned the knob and exhaled a relieved breath. Unlocked. She must have felt safe doing so since her bedroom door was locked at least.  


Steam rolled out the door as he opened it. He could just make out her shape through the filmy shower curtain. Her breasts were on the small side, tea cup shaped. He wished he could see in better detail. Holding his breath, he crept closer. Just one look. One tiny, teensy look to find out what color her nipples were. Nothing terrible. Then he'd go wank in his room and leave her be.  


She didn't even know he was here, she was singing so loudly. Emboldened, he approached the shower and reached out a hand to pull the curtain back just a little bit.

~*~

Puck lathered up her hair, eyes shut tight as she belted out her favorite shower song. “She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen. She had the sightless eyes, tellin' me no lies, knockin'me out with those American thighs!”  


She sang into her shampoo bottle, getting into it. She knew she didn't have the best singing voice but everyone could be a rock star in the shower. “Takin' more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come but I was already there!”  


Turning to rinse out her hair, she opened her eyes and then jolted. A tall, dark haired figure was reaching for the shower curtain. Oh my god. Ben. Ben was trying to creep on her in the shower. She should have been frightened. Well, she was frightened. But she was also really fucking mad, too. He'd wrecked her whole school year, bullied her into coming to this house, and now what was his plan? To assault her at her most vulnerable?  


“Get the fuck out!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and with almost a year of pent-up frustration.  


It was Ben's turn to jolt and he snatched his hand back. He made no apology and made no move to run and Puck just saw _red_. She lunged through the shower curtain, hearing the rings pop loose from the rod as she started swinging her fists and bellowing.  


“I said get the fuck out, you creep! Fuck off! Quit fucking bugging me! I don't like you! I've _never_ liked you so _get the fuck out_!” She punched him in the face, in the arms when he lifted them to defend himself, in the head, the face, the chest.  


Ben slipped and slid on the water she was spilling all over the floor through her attack. Shampoo ran down into her eyes, obscuring her vision but that didn't stop her from swinging. She could just make out Ben scrambling to his feet and running out of the bathroom.  


Puck threw off the shower curtain and plowed into the bedroom, naked and half blind. “Yeah, you'd better run, fuck ass!” Sobbing now with rage, Puck saw that he'd closed her bedroom door when he ran out, probably in an effort to slow her down. She went to it and wrenched the knob, ready to chase Ben down in his room and continue his ass beating.  


The door was locked. He had to still be in the room.  


“Where are you?!” she growled. “I'm gonna snap your fucking neck!”  


She ran to the closet and threw it open. No one was there. She dropped to her knees and lifted up the bed skirt. Nothing, not even dust bunnies. She got to her feet, weeping and rubbing the tears, water, and shampoo out of her eyes. When her vision cleared, she glanced out her window and then fell still.  


Ben was out on the lawn, talking to his uncle as they both carried the kindling he'd broken down earlier.  


Puck sat down abruptly on her bed. Who had been in the bathroom with her? Had she imagined the whole thing? She dropped her face into her hands and started weeping in earnest. More than anything, she just wanted to go home.

~*~

Gulping and sobbing, Brahms crouched on the floor in his room, dabbing at his bleeding nose with the sleeve of his cardigan. He hurt from where she'd hit him but he was mostly crying out of shame. He'd known it wasn't right to go into that bathroom. Why had he done it?  


The answer came to him instantly: because he was lonely and desperate. A girl had shown him a little kindness and what had he done? Invaded her privacy and upset her into the bargain. He was lucky that all she did was kick the shit out of him. He rested his head against his bed, closing his eyes and reliving all the things she'd shouted at him. His chest ached and he pulled his knees up to rest his cheek on them, hugging himself.  


_I don't want her to hate me_. He'd give her space the rest of the day and then tonight go back and apologize. She might tell him not to talk to her anymore. God, he hoped not. He had no one else to talk to, except sometimes his parents. They talked to him less and less these days. His mother and father had each come to check on him separately a few days ago but hadn't ever since.  


_Oh, Puck_ , Brahms thought miserably. _Please don't hate me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC


	5. I Want to Hear You Call Out My Name

Puck was mostly quiet that evening at dinner. The Heelshires thanked her for helping Ben with the yard work and she accepted the thanks pleasantly but didn't say much else. She could feel Ben's curious stare but didn't look at him. Even though he hadn't been the one spying on her in the bathroom, it had still _felt_ like him and her anger had come from a real place of resentment. She wasn't ready to play nice with him just yet.  


She didn't imagine the figure in her bathroom. She'd hit someone. Her fist had stung for an hour afterward and she'd never experienced hallucinations before. The house was old; maybe Brahms wasn't the only ghost? _A solid ghost, though?_ Well, why not? Who knew how ghosts worked? There were different ghost rules in place depending on what account you were reading of a given paranormal event, like how every story about time travel had different rules.  


_Jesus. Someone tried to get you in the shower, you still haven't told anyone, and you're sitting here comparing it to how time travel worked so much differently in Terminator versus Back to the Future?_ She sighed in frustration at herself and the conversation at the table came to a screeching halt. She looked up to find everyone staring at her.  


“I'm sorry,” she said and stood up. “I don't feel very well.”  


Ben stood as well, forehead creased in concern. “I'll walk you up.”  


“No, that's okay. I can make it.”  


He grasped her arm and smiled at his aunt and uncle. “I'll be right back.”  


Puck stared at his hand in disbelief as he led her from the room. Once they were alone, she tried to shake him loose again.“Um, excuse me! I said I didn't need help! You don't get to just grab me!”  


Ben dropped her arm. “What's going on?”  


“I'm going upstairs and you're manhandling me like a jerk!” Puck snapped.  


For a moment, Ben's face went bright red. She thought he was going to hit her and curled her hands up in fists, ready for her second fight of the day. Instead, she watched him slowly exhale as he quite obviously counted to ten.  


“You're right. I'm sorry. I just wanted a moment to speak to you.”  


“So you say, 'Hey, Puck, can I talk to you for a second?' instead of _grabbing my arm_!”  


He held up his hands and took a step back. “Okay, you're right. I apologize.”  


Puck wanted to tell him where to stick his apology but instead she said stiffly, “What did you want to talk about so badly?”  


“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He gave her a concerned look. “You had a headache yesterday and when I came in from the garden earlier, I heard you crying in your room.”  


The walls were so thick in this house; how could he have heard that? “Did you have your ear pressed to the door?” she asked incredulously.  


“No!” Ben shook his head adamantly. “I went to knock and ask you if you wanted some pre-dinner drinks in the lounge but stopped when I heard you crying. You were very quiet at dinner, too. I'm just checking in with you now to make sure nothing's happened.”  


Puck eyed him and considered telling him about her shower visitor. She immediately discarded the idea. She _did_ need to talk to someone, though. Maybe Malcolm? Belinda had said something about Malcolm coming tomorrow with some Cornish game hens. She might be able to tear him away from the others and get his take on these weird goings on. Maybe she'd even tell him about Brahms as well.  


“I'm just...” she had no idea what to tell him. Making up stories on the spot had never been her strong point. She thought suddenly of her brother, Tony, and missed him fiercely. He was awesome at lying. When they sneaked in after a night out, he always had a convincing story to placate Mom. “I don't know. Moody, I guess. Sorry.”  


Understanding flashed across his face and she wanted to take her words back. He probably thought she was on her period.  


“Well, I hope you feel better soon,” he said kindly. “Get some rest.”  


“Thanks. I will.” She let him take her hand and give it a squeeze and then finally he was walking away. Once she was in her room with the door locked, she felt a little better. Until she remembered that the shower peeper had gotten into her locked room, too. She eyed the furniture in the room, wondering if she should push it in front of the door but it looked really heavy. She wouldn't be able to move it without making a lot of noise.  


Puck went to the dresser and pulled out her pajamas to change into. She'd gotten her top off when the hairs on her neck stood up. Squeaking, she pulled her t-shirt on and called out, “Brahms? Is that you?”  


“Yes.” He sounded guilty. “I'm sorry.”  


“Don't be sorry,” she said, starting to blush. “You didn't really see anything, right?” He couldn't have, she was still wearing her bra.  


“I still feel really bad,” he said, sounding close to tears.  


Puck sighed. “Oh, honey. Come on. Don't be so hard on yourself.” She leaned against the dresser. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. Is there anyone else here with you?”  


He sounded confused. “Yes?”  


Oh, god. Her peeper was a ghost. She shut her eyes, feeling a little sick. She had to make sure, though. “Okay. Is there anyone with you who's a man? Tall with dark hair?”  


“Right this minute? No.”  


“I don't mean this minute, Brahms. I mean... you know. Is there anyone else like you?”  


“What do you mean?”  


“What tall, dark-haired man were you thinking of?” Puck asked, trying to get to the point.  


“Ben,” Brahms said, leaving the _obviously_ unspoken.  


Puck pressed a hand to her forehead. “Okay. Ben's not really who I had in mind. I meant if there was anyone else like you? Like...” He said nothing so she continued. “You know. Passed on.”  


“Passed on what?”  


Did this really have to be so hard? Puck decided to stop trying to be delicate. “Ghosts. Are there any ghosts besides you?”  


“What on earth do you mean 'besides me'?” Brahms asked. “I'm not a ghost! Ghosts aren't real!”  


Puck's heart ached. “You don't know you're dead?” He didn't answer. “Oh, Brahms. When you were eight there was a house fire. You never made it out. I'm sorry, but you died. I'm not sure why your parents never told you, maybe they didn't want to upset you. But haven't you wondered why you didn't get any older? Why no one can see you?”  


Still no answer. “Brahms?” Puck called again. She couldn't sense him anymore. Maybe his realization that he was dead had made him cross over to the other side? She hoped so. Then maybe his parents could move on, too. Feeling sad yet satisfied, Puck went into the bathroom to finish changing into her pajamas.

~*~

A _ghost_? How on earth had she come to the conclusion that he was a ghost? Wasn't he clearly a person speaking to her from another room? Brahms opened his fridge for a snack and took out a chicken leg which he began to nibble on. Maybe it was the child's voice? His mother preferred he speak that way when she saw him and it had become his natural voice as a result.  


“I'm a man,” he said out loud, trying to drop his tone. It did a little but wavered on “man” before cracking. Ugh. “I'm a man.” It came out better the second time. “I'm a man, Puck. I'm a living, breathing man.”  


Much better. He tossed the chicken back into the fridge and closed the door. Time to try this again.

~*~

Puck was half asleep when the flesh on her neck began to prickle with goosebumps. She stirred, then blinked awake. “Mmm? Who's there?” She reached for the lamp beside her but froze when she heard the voice.  


“Don't turn on the light.”  


Squeaking in alarm, Puck froze. “Ben?”  


“No.”  


Her mouth went dry and she worked to swallow but could only make a terrible clicking sound in her throat. “Please don't hurt me.”  


“I'm not here to hurt you.”  


Trembling, Puck curled her hand into a fist, eyes darting around the room for where this guy was. “I don't believe you.”  


“I could have hurt you this afternoon and I didn't. In fact, you hurt me.”  


Anger as well as fear made her shake, reliving the rage that had launched her out of her shower. “You son of a bitch. Who the hell are you?”  


“Who do you think I am?”  


“The voyeur I'm going to kick the shit out of once you quit hiding?” Puck said and reached for the light again. Someone darted out of the darkness and gripped her wrist, hard.  


“I said to leave the light off,” he said, keeping his tone low.  


Puck brought up her other hand, hoping to smash the heel of her palm into his nose but he caught that one as well. She fully expected him to pin her to the mattress but to her surprise, he just gave her wrists a warning squeeze and then dropped them.  


“Let's have a civilized conversation, then. We've gotten off on the wrong foot.”  


“Let me get this straight,” Puck said slowly. “You broke into my room once to spy on me naked and now you've broken in again just so we can chat?”  


The man said nothing. She couldn't make out his face in the dark but he gave off a cheesy body odor she could have lived without. He breathed loudly, too. What a gross loser. She started to inch carefully to the other side of the bed, hoping she could leap clear of his grasping hands and scream for help. Not that help would come quickly since her door was locked.  


“Stay where you are,” the man snapped.  


“Well, you fucking reek,” Puck snapped back without thinking. “Ever heard of deodorant?”  


“That is _so_ rude!” the man exclaimed, his voice breaking.  


“So's invading people's privacy!” Puck threw her arms up in exasperation. “And for what? What the hell do you want?! And _who are you_?!”  


The man turned away from her and stood with his back to her, his shoulders shaking. “Everything keeps going so wrong! I'm not... I'm not good at this!”  


She should take this opportunity to start shouting for help now that he had given her a little space. Unfortunately, Puck was easily curious so she stayed put and watched him as he came unglued. It sounded like he was crying. She'd never seen a grown man act like this before and it was morbidly fascinating.  


“Not good at what?” she asked.  


His head turned in her direction but she couldn't make out his features. “You wouldn't understand.”  


“Try me.” Puck folded her legs criss cross and waited.  


“I'm not good at being around people,” he said sulkily.  


“Yeah, no kidding.” Puck rolled her eyes. “Why don't we start really simple with social interaction. Tell me who you are.”  


The man sighed. “We've already met.”  


Her eyes narrowed. “This afternoon really doesn't count, dude.”  


“No! I didn't mean-- I apologized for that and you said I was too hard on myself!”  


“What the hell are you going on about? I never said anything to you about....” She paused and replayed a different conversation she'd had just a few hours ago. “Wait. You can't be...?”  


“Brahms Heelshire. Nice to meet you.”  


Puck pinched her lips shut and sat in stunned silence. She had no idea what to say, no idea what to think. She'd never encountered anything this weird or fucked up before. She felt like she wanted to start screaming and not stop.  


So she and Brahms were both startled when she started laughing uncontrollably.

~*~

Puck laughed so hard she collapsed to her side, hugging herself and wheezing.  


“I'm sorry, I don't see what's so funny,” Brahms said, offended.  


“It! It's just! You-- you're so--” She shook with laughter for another few moments before she struggled upright. “Urrgggh, I have to pee, hang on a second.” She threw back the covers and went walking off to the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “Don't peep on me or I'll break your face.”  


Brahms hung back in the shadows and sulked until she'd finished. When she returned to the bedroom, she'd calmed considerably and sat down on her bed again.  


“Okay. So you're Brahms Heelshire. The kid who died in a fire.”  


“I didn't die.”  


“Yeah, you told me that. So where have you been all this time then? Just hanging out?”  


“I suppose.”  


Puck drummed her fingers on her thigh. “You killed Emily Cribbs and then set a fire to fake your death so you wouldn't get arrested or whatever it is they do to killer kids?”  


“That's a gross oversimplification of what happened,” Brahms said.  


“So complicate it, then, I don't care. Something has to start making sense here.”  


Brahms sighed. “I don't want to talk about it.”  


“Then why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?” Puck slumped backwards on her bed. “I need to know why you killed a little girl or I'm calling the police and telling them you're here trying to hide from justice. You don't scare me anymore since I know I can take you.”  


“You just surprised me,” Brahms said, folding his arms.  


She snorted but didn't say anything.  


“I didn't want to kill Emily.” He thought of that long ago day, how it was a little windy. Emily's hair had whipped around her head as she'd followed him into the woods. She hadn't noticed Ben following them at a distance.  


“But you did it anyway,” Puck pointed out.  


“I had no choice.” Brahms's shoulders slumped. “Ben didn't give me a choice.”  


Puck sat up straight. “Ben was there?”  


“He handed me the rock,” Brahms said flatly. “He said either I smash in Emily's head or he'd kill my parents.”  


“Why would he do that?” Puck asked, sounding shocked.  


Angry, he spun on her. “You don't believe me!”  


“I didn't say that!” Puck protested. “That's such a fucked up thing to do but I can totally see Ben doing it. He's really... weird. I'm the only one at school who doesn't like him.”  


Brahms's heart skipped a beat and he took a few steps close to her. “You've felt it too! That something's not right with him!”  


She shivered. “Yeah, I have. I don't know what he did but overnight, all the guys at school stopped talking to me. Then my friends started pressuring me to go out with him. One time we all made plans to meet up at a pub and when I showed up they weren't there but Ben was. He was sitting in the booth with this smug look on his face, like he was saying, 'See you can't escape me.' When I complained to them later, they all stared at me like I was crazy. My roommate even said that I was being a huge bitch.”  


“You aren't,” Brahms said quietly. “You're one of the nicest people I've ever met.” He heard her sniffle and he took a step closer. “Oh, no, don't. Don't cry.”  


“It's just...” Puck hugged her knees to her chest. “No one's been on my side, not even my brother. He said I should just go on a date with Ben to shut him up. But I just know that he wouldn't let it stop at one date.”  


“No. He wouldn't.” Brahms didn't even want to think about what would have happened to Puck. “I'm sorry for upsetting you. I only wanted to meet you properly. I'm not a ghost. My parents behave as if I'm not here and I... I really hate it. I didn't want you thinking I was dead, too.”  


Puck sniffled again and said,“I get it.”  


“Are you still going to tell the police where I am?” He thought about life in jail and didn't feel the fear that he had when he'd been much younger. It couldn't be worse than this half existence of living in the walls of his parents' home, could it?  


“No,” Puck said. She rubbed an arm over her eyes and sighed.  


“All right.” He took a step back. “I'll let you get back to sleep, then. I'm sorry I woke you. I'm not sure how I did since I didn't make any sound or anything.”  


“It's just my Spidey senses,” she said in a joking way though he didn't understand her meaning. She yawned and started settling back down in her bed. “When you visit me tomorrow night, maybe try to come a little earlier.”  


Brahms began to smile. “You want me to visit you again?”  


“Yeah. For being a huge weirdo, you're actually the most sane person in this house.” She tucked herself in. “'Night, Brahms.”  


“Goodnight, Puck.”  


Brahms left her room quietly and started returning to his own space. He abruptly changed his mind then doubled back to peer into the room where Ben was staying. For his own peace of mind, he wanted to know what Ben was up to. Instead of finding his cousin tucked into bed reading a book, he was pacing the floor and mumbling what sounded like, “He's gotta give it up, he's gotta.” Ben rubbed his hands over his mouth over and over as he spoke, his eyes wild.  


Uneasy, Brahms left his cousin to his mumbling and pacing and returned to his room where he was unable to sleep the rest of the night.


	6. You Want to Get What?

When Puck woke the next day, she half-way convinced herself that the previous night had all been a dream. It didn't make sense that Brahms Heelshire lived in the walls. Her skin crawled just thinking about it. It reminded her of something she'd seen online of a man, suspicious of his food going missing, putting up a hidden camera in his house. He'd been expecting maybe a roommate or an animal but instead caught a woman climbing out of an air conditioning duct and helping herself to everything in the kitchen. Puck had actually lost sleep over it and Tony had teased her for weeks, suggesting that when she couldn't find something, the lady in the attic must have stolen it.  


Laughing sadly, Puck got out of bed. She missed her family. Her brothers would love the sheer size and creepiness of the Heelshire house and she'd feel less scared having them here with her. Also, if Tony saw first hand how Ben behaved, he might go back on that pretty mean comment he'd made about Puck being too uptight and to give the guy a chance.  


Puck dressed and went downstairs for a quick breakfast of toast and an apple. Ben was already outside doing yard work. He was pulling downed trees out of the woods and chopping them up. She considered joining him and then decided not to. She wanted to keep her distance for awhile after all that crap last night.  


She was just polishing off the last of the apple when Mrs. Heelshire entered the room. Puck tensed and got up to throw away the apple core. “Good morning,” she said politely to her hostess. “I was just about to go say hi to Ben and then go for a walk.”  


“That sounds lovely.” Mrs. Heelshire put on a kettle to boil and worried her hands for a moment. Then she blurted, “Puck, I think you misunderstood me when we spoke the other day.”  


Puck wanted the ground to swallow her up. “Oh.”  


“You see, this house, it has... there are a lot of...” Mrs. Heelshire steeled herself. “Have you ready many gothic novels, perhaps?”  


“No, not many,” Puck said. “I've read the Brontes but that's kind of it. Um, why?”  


Mrs. Heelshire stared out the window. “I grew up on gothic romances. I ate them up like candy, just devoured them. I wanted to live in a house like this one so badly, to walk ancient halls and feel the presence of those who came before. I was a very romantic girl.” She laughed sadly and pressed a hand to her throat. “I didn't really think about how houses like this always come with expectations, standards to uphold. That they come with secrets.”  


_Like child murderers hiding in the walls_? Part of Puck wanted to tell Mrs. Heelshire that she already knew the secret but she had a feeling she better keep it to herself. Brahms didn't want Ben knowing that he'd survived and who knew what would slip if the Heelshires had one more person in their confidence? Ben might overhear them talking and find out that way, maybe.  


Dropping her hand, Mrs. Heelshire looked back at her earnestly. “You don't seem like that kind of girl at all. You're so...” She looked at Puck, her gaze lingering on the pink, purple, and blue tie-dyed sundress she was wearing. “Bright. And sporty. Sociable. Not the type to get locked in by this house, by us. That's all I meant. I wasn't trying to imply you were lesser.”  


Puck nodded slowly. “Thanks for apologizing. You don't need to worry, though. I'm leaving in a few days. Ben only invited me for the week.”  


“I was thinking about how much you love costume work and I wondered... There are so many articles of old clothing up in the attic just collecting dust. I could go through some today and maybe you could take a few, see what you could do with them? Just for fun. Use them for whatever projects you have on the horizon.” Mrs. Heelshire smiled wanly. “A bit of a _mea culpa_ for my poorly chosen words.”  


“That would be nice.” Puck smiled back at the woman. “Thank you.”  


Looking relieved, Mrs. Heelshire nodded. “Right. I'll look around after I've had tea. Enjoy your walk, Puck.”  


“I will. Thanks.” Puck headed to the door. “See you later.” Mrs. Heelshire waved to her and Puck went outside. She walked across the grounds to where Ben was dragging a fallen tree over to a stump. Sweat ringed the collar of his t-shirt and spread down his armpits. He paused while grabbing for the ax and looked up at the sound of Puck's footsteps.  


“Morning,” Ben said. “Sleep well?”  


“Kind of,” Puck replied. “I wanted to make sure that we were okay.”  


Ben looked surprised. “We're fine. Why wouldn't we be?”  


Puck clenched her jaw but then relaxed it. This guy was supposed to be her ride home. “Just checking in. Are you going to be ready to leave after the weekend?”  


“Well. I was going to talk to you about that.” Ben folded his sweaty arms and tipped his head back, indicating the woods. “This place is a mess. It's going to take me a lot longer than a week to get things back in order. Do you mind staying for another week?”  


_Yes, I mind!_ Puck sucked in a breath and forced herself to sound calm when she said, “I only packed for a week.”  


Ben nodded. “Right. I know. We could buy you anything you needed from town. And maybe your dad could mail you more clothes so you don't have to keep wearing the same things over and over.” He tilted his head. “I'll do better, Puck, I promise. I won't just be doing grounds keeping. I'll spend time with you, maybe go to a movie? What do you think?”  


Puck held back a sigh. “I guess one more week is okay. Can we go into town soon, though?”  


“Of course,” Ben told her. “How about tomorrow?”  


“Cool.” Puck nodded. “I'll let you get back to...” She waved her hand to the stump.  


“Right. Thanks. I'll see you at lunch.” Ben picked up the ax and Puck took a few quick steps back. Ben gave her a questioning look so she slapped on the best fake smile she could manage and then hurried away, not liking having to turn her back on him.  


Puck walked away from the house and followed the road to the gate that sealed off the property. She saw some deer munching on grass, a mother and two babies. The doe raised her head and stared warily at Puck as she passed by. The babies continued to nibble at their breakfast, trusting their mother to do the worrying for them. Suddenly the mother tensed and nudged her children, sending them running into the bushes.  


A car approached the gate and then came to a stop. The door open and Malcolm stepped out. He beamed at the sight of Puck. “Good morning!”  


“Hi!” Puck called back. “Do you have game hens for us?”  


“I do. Want a ride back to the house?”  


_Actually, could you give me a lift back to London_? “Sure.”  


“Hop in.”  


Puck opened the gate for him and he drove the car onto the property. She closed the gate once he was through and then let herself into the passenger side of his car. She took a quick glance around while fastening her seat belt. “Wow, you keep a clean machine.”  


“My dad was very strict about keeping a clean car. It looks better to customers when we do deliveries.”  


“Do you deliver groceries to many people?” Puck asked.  


Malcolm shook his head and started driving. “No, just the Heelshires.”  


“Do you like Ben?” Puck blurted out.  


“Yeah, he's a good guy,” Malcolm said, blinking a little at the subject change. “He's come by the pub a few times and bought a round. Quick with a joke and always laughs at yours, even if he's heard it before. Why? Don't you like him?”  


Puck didn't answer, suddenly worried that whatever she said to Malcolm would get to Ben.  


As if reading her mind, Malcolm gently said, “Anything we say here doesn't leave this car.”  


“I was wondering if there were any local girls he's tried to pick up who turned him down,” Puck said. “How does he react?”  


“Huh. I don't really know...” Malcolm thought about it and looked over at her in concern. “Has he been overstepping with you? Is that what you're worried about?”  


“It isn't anything blatant really,” Puck said. “It's more insidious. Any time I try to tell anyone about him, they have a million excuses for his behavior. Things are fine for now, but I'm getting close to the point where I'm going to have to tell him that there's no chance for him at all. I don't think he's going to take it well.”  


Malcolm nodded, looking troubled. “You're leaving soon, aren't you?”  


“Ben's talked me into one more week.”  


“And that might turn into another week.”  


“That's what I'm worried about, yeah.”  


“I can take you home if you want,” Malcolm said. “I'll need to take the time off of work but if I let Dad know a week in advance, it shouldn't be a problem. What do you think?”  


Puck smiled brightly. “That sounds awesome. I'll even pay for gas.”  


“Well, since you're offering.” Malcom flashed his dimples then looked back at the road. “Feeling better now?”  


The house came into view and Puck settled back into her seat. It didn't seem as intimidating anymore now that she had an exit plan. “Much better.”

~*~

Brahms slipped out of the air vent in his parents' bedroom and then put the metal covering back in place. Everyone was downstairs so there was no chance anyone would hear him and come investigate. He walked silently on the balls of his feet to the bathroom and then locked himself inside.  


Puck had told him last night that he reeked. It was embarrassing but at least it was a fixable problem. He stripped off his clothing and stepped into the shower, blasting the hot water. It got so cold in the walls, even during the summer, that it felt nice to just stand under the spray for a few minutes. Then he started picking up his father's soaps and lathering up. As he scrubbed his chest, he thought of Ben. He'd seen him working earlier in the yard and had watched as he'd pulled his shirt off, revealing a hairless chest. Was that what men did now? They shaved their chests? Brahms didn't want to have to do that; it would take him ages to clear away all that he had.  


Once he'd washed and rinsed off, Brahms stepped out and toweled himself dry. He went to the mirror and considered his hair and beard. His mother had always trimmed his hair for him in the past but hadn't since he'd turned eighteen two years ago. He was looking pretty raggedy but had no idea how to tackle the problem himself. His hair hung in curls to his collar, his beard nearly to his chest.  


Brahms sighed and then picked up his smelly clothing. He couldn't put those on after he'd washed. He had other clothes in his room, he just never really bothered to change and was comfortable wearing the same things day in and day out. He'd have to drop that bad habit now so he wouldn't offend Puck with his body odor.  


Puck. He smiled at the thought of her. Her long dark hair, her tan skin which contrasted so beautifully with her gray eyes. She was like an Amazon with her long legs and strong thighs. Her swinging fists. He winced at the memory of her beating him for being a dirty little sneak.  


_Well, I'm not doing that again_ , he promised himself. _It's time to start acting like an adult. I'm a man, not a little boy._  


Gathering his clothes under his arm, he left the bathroom and sneaked back into the walls.

~*~

When Puck and Malcolm arrived at the house, none of the Heelshires were around so she helped him carry the hens in from the car and load them into the big freezer in the kitchen.  


“I think Mrs. Heelshire intended these for your goodbye feast,” Malcolm said. “I guess she'll have to wait another week to prepare them.”  


“Ugh, don't remind me.” Puck pouted. She leaned against the table and folded her arms. “Has Ben ever brought a girl home to the Heelshires like this before?”  


Malcolm shifted the contents of the freezer around so he could close the door more easily. “No, not that I know of.”  


“So why me, then?” Puck mused. She frowned when Malcolm barked out a laugh. “What?”  


“You know what you look like, right?” Malcolm asked, tipping a cheeky wink at her.  


She felt her face heat up. “Come on. I'm hardly that special.”  


“Hardly that...? How tall are you? Six feet?”  


“Five eleven,” Puck said. “I don't see what that's--”  


“And your hair always looks like you just got out of bed,” Malcolm said and when he saw her face quickly added, “In a good way. There's, uh, a term for hair like that...”  


“Just been fucked?”  


Malcolm swallowed. “That's the one, yeah.”  


Puck shook her head, laughing. “Well, there's lots of girls in London ten times prettier than me. More charming and talented and sexy. I'm so awkward and goofy, I don't really know what it was that turned Ben's head. If I knew, I'd un-do it.”  


“I think it might be the eyes,” Malcolm said. “Or your mouth.”  


Oh, Jesus. “I wasn't fishing for compliments, Malcolm.”  


“I know.” Malcolm smiled at her warmly. “I'm just saying it could have been anything or everything about you. Or it may be because you aren't interested in him. I think Ben isn't used to being told no. You're a challenge.”  


Puck groaned. “That's probably it.”  


“So, since you're a free agent and everything,” Malcolm said casually, “And you aren't romantically interested in your host...” Puck waited for him to spit it out. “Would you mind if I called up some night this week and took you out?”  


“I wouldn't mind at all.” Puck smiled. She felt like a normal girl for the first time in ages.  


“Brilliant.” Malcolm grinned back.  


Just then, Mrs. Heelshire came in, face flushed with excitement and something bundled under her arm. “Malcom! Hello, I had no idea you were here! You've brought us the game hens?”  


“I have,” Malcolm told her. “They're in the freezer unless you wanted to cook them sooner?”  


“No, no.” Mrs. Heelshire turned to Puck. “Look what I've found!”  


Puck was expecting some old fashioned clothing but instead Mrs. Heelshire held up a dusty, sad looking porcelain boy in a moth-eaten school uniform. She'd never seen anything more pathetic and had to work not to look repulsed. She'd hated dolls since she was a little girl and someone had gifted her a Raggedy Anne. She and Tony had tied it on the back of the neighbor's dog. The animal had rolled in filth immediately and then run through a sticker bush. They never saw Raggedy again and good riddance. Puck never got a doll again.  


“Isn't he darling?” Mrs. Heelshire gushed.  


“He's something,” Malcolm said politely.  


“What do you think?” Mrs. Heelshire asked Puck.  


“I, um...” Puck didn't know what to say and hoped that maybe a tree would fall on the house right then to get her out of this conversation.  


“Do you think you could make a new wardrobe for him?” Mrs. Heelshire asked eagerly. “I'd pay you for your time as well as for all the materials. What do you think?”  


“Oh!” Puck looked at the doll again, this time considering him as a tailor's dummy. If she thought of him that way, he was less upsetting. “Sure, that would be fun! I've never made doll clothes before. It'll be good practice for fine stitching.”  


“Splendid!” Mrs. Heelshire hugged the doll to her chest and Puck couldn't hold back a wince. He was covered in attic dirt and probably some mouse poop too, if she was being honest. “Ben said he was taking you into town tomorrow. I'll give you some money for cloth and things before you go.”  


“Sounds great.” Puck nodded, hoping she looked enthusiastic.  


“I'll just clean the little chap up.” Mrs. Heelshire gave them another bright, sunshiney smile and then walked briskly from the room.  


“Whoof,” Malcolm said. “At least now you'll have something to do during your extra week here.”  


“I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do more,” Puck said and sat down in a chair to drop her head onto the table top with a thud, making Malcolm laugh.


	7. It's Wild the Way You Tease Me

Puck spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening after dinner sketching out ideas for some of the boy doll's outfits. Initially, Puck had sketched outfits she remembered her brothers wearing when they were growing up. In particular, she liked a really cute hoodie with bear ears that her littlest brother Liam had worn when he was five but Mrs. Heelshire had turned it down as too “twee.” Puck felt offended enough on her little brother's behalf (as well as her mother's who had sewn the hoodie herself) that she nearly told the old cow to make her own fucking clothes if she was going to be so rude, but she held her tongue. It hurt, but she didn't want to start shit with the woman who was going to be paying her. Her sour thoughts must have showed because Ben gave her an amused look and a wink. After that, Puck stuck to Christopher Robin as her inspiration and got Mrs Heelshire's approval. Lucky Puck.  


Around 9:30, Puck stood up. “Well, I think I'll turn in now. You wanted to leave early tomorrow, right?” She directed this to Ben.  


“Yes, if you don't mind.” He stood. “I'll walk you up.”  


She wanted to tell him no but that hadn't gone so well last time so she just murmured her thanks and then said good night to the Heelshires. She felt nervous walking up the stairs with Ben; this was the man who had goaded his cousin into murdering a little girl with a rock. It occurred to her that he must have been really scary and convincing if Brahms had believed that Ben was capable of killing two grown adults. She shivered.  


“Are you all right?” Ben asked.  


“Oh, yeah, fine,” Puck said. “I'll feel better once I'm settled in bed.”  


“Ah.” They approached her door and Ben asked, “Did Malcolm ever bring the game hens?”  


“Oh yeah, he did. You were working so hard that you missed him,” Puck said.  


“That's a shame.” Ben looked regretful. “I'll have to ring him up soon and invite him out for drinks. You can come too, if you like.”  


Puck pressed a hand to the doorknob. “Oh, we're making plans ourselves soon so I can mention it to him. Maybe we can go out as a group.”  


Ben's face split wide in a smile. She'd never seen him smile like that, his eyes twinkling. It made him absurdly handsome, so much so that Puck found herself smiling back at him before she could stop herself. “Oh, once you've gone out drinking with country boys, you'll never enjoy another night out in London again, believe me.”  


“What, do you tip cows or something?” Puck laughed, raising an eyebrow.  


“Or something.” His smile turned mysterious. “Good night, Puck. Can you be ready to leave by eight?”  


“Sure can.”  


“Excellent.” He turned to go back downstairs, calling again, “Good night.”  


“Night.” Puck let herself into her room, locked the door, and went into the bathroom to change into her sleep clothes. Then she got settled in bed, arranging her pillows just so when the flesh on her arms pebbled up into bumps. “Brahms?”  


“I'm here.” His voice sounded like it was coming from her closet. Was he just crouching in there? What a weird thing to do, but then, nothing about this situation was normal.  


“Well, come in, then.”  


“Turn out your lights first.”  


“Why?”  


“Because if you don't I won't come in.”  


“Are you a vampire or something?”  


“Vampires aren't hurt by electric lights!” Brahms exclaimed, sounding offended.  


Puck giggled. “Maybe you're a new kind?”  


“Maybe I won't come in then.”  


“Oh, don't get all huffy you big baby.” Puck reached for her lamp and the room fell into pitch darkness. She listened but didn't hear anything. The hairs on her arms still stood up, though, so she knew he hadn't left. “Are you there?”  


“Yes.” His voice came from her right quite suddenly and she jumped.  


“Jesus!”  


“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”  


She pressed a hand to her racing heart. “You're nearly silent when you walk. It's spooky.”  


“I know which floor boards creak and I know how to shift my weight just right. Also, I oil the door hinges every week.”  


Puck squinted into the black and tried to make out his outline. The moon hadn't reached her side of the house yet so there was no light in the room. “Why bother creeping around when your parents know you're there?”  


“They don't like hearing me,” he said sadly.  


Her heart twisted. “Oh.” She bit her lip and said tentatively, “Don't they know why you killed that little girl? That you did it because of Ben?”  


“I told them but they didn't believe me.” His voice went low, years of pain in that one sentence.  


Puck blinked at the sudden tears in her eyes. “Because they didn't think a boy his age could kill grown ups?”  


“Yes. That and they always believed Ben over me.”  


“Why did you think Ben could kill them?” Puck asked.  


“I watched him kill animals loads of times,” Brahms said, his voice tight. “And not in the normal way that school boys do with rocks. He once used a cricket bat to slap a blackbird out of the air and when it was stunned, he took out his pocket knife and sliced the bird's wings and beak off. It kept crying out in pain and he didn't even pause, he only shushed it and kept sawing away.”  


Her stomach cramped and she clapped a hand to her mouth, tensing against her sudden need to vomit. Once she recovered all she could say was, “Oh my god.”  


“My parents wanted to get me a pet but when I saw what Ben did to that bird, I told them that I didn't like animals. My mother was all right with that since she hadn't wanted the inconvenience and mess in the first place but my father looked at me askance. It's unusual to not like animals.”  


“So you knew Ben was capable of being cruel and liked death. So why did you think...?”  


Brahms sighed and his voice came from another part of the room, now. She spun in her bed to face him though she still couldn't see him. “When Ben handed me the rock, he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and started to flick it. You don't need to be strong enough to overpower someone if you can block an exit and light a fire.”  


She swallowed hard. “Did he light the fire you supposedly died in?”  


“Yes.”  


“Then your parents hid you so you wouldn't be blamed for Emily's murder.”  


“Oh, I was still blamed. I just wasn't formally charged with anything, being dead and all,” he said bitterly. His voice came from yet another part of her room.  


“Please stop moving around,” Puck said, voice high with distress. “It's making me dizzy.”  


“I'm sorry. Where would you like me to stand?”  


“You don't have to stand anywhere. You can sit on my bed.” She bent and patted the space next to her legs. “Right here.” She heard some shuffling and smiled that he was consciously making noise now so as not to frighten her anymore. Her bed dipped slightly and she could somewhat see the dark shape of a man on her bed.  


“Is this all right?” he asked. His voice was low and gentle. Unexpectedly, she got a sudden shiver that hardened her nipples into points. She moved to cross her arms over her chest but then realized he couldn't see her and let them fall to her sides once more.  


“Fine,” she said a little breathlessly.  


“Are you sure?” His warm, deep voice showed concern now and Puck swallowed hard. How was she getting so worked up for his voice? She'd always liked English accents but she'd been hearing them for nearly a year now and had gotten over the novelty of them. For some reason, Brahms's voice when he was speaking kindly to her was, oh no, making her wet between her legs.  


“Yeah,” she managed to say.  


“All right.” He sounded a little doubtful.  


“So, um.” She tried to think and took a deep breath. A particularly nice scent made her smile. Something woodsy and clean smelling, her favorite scent on a man. “Wow, you smell really good.”  


“Do you think so?” Brahms asked a little eagerly. “Thank you. I apologize for my stench last time. I'm not used to being around other people so I don't bathe as often as I should. I'll do so regularly now for your benefit.”  


Puck laughed and realized a split second later that it was her flirty laugh. “Well, thanks. I like the effort.”  


He was quiet for a moment and then said slowly,“Your voice sounds different.”  


“How does it sound?” she asked and knew she was in full seductive flirt mode. What was she doing? She barely knew this guy. She didn't even know what he looked like! But a low, sexy voice in the dark and her favorite smell was turning her on in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd last had sex nearly a year and a half ago at this point. Brahms wasn't the best candidate for her next partner, being a traumatized prisoner in his own home and no doubt still a virgin.  


“It sounds as if... you might like me,” Brahms said a little tentatively.  


“I might,” Puck said teasingly.  


He laughed at that, a soft chuckle that sent heat and want thrilling through her veins. She still told herself that she was being weird but a different part of herself piped up, _How is this any different from a girl who hooks up with a guy in a club? He's a total stranger and it's usually so dark that she can't be 100% certain of what he looks like, but they still have sex in a hallway or the alley or something and no one thinks she's weird._  


“Do you want to lay down?” Puck asked. His answer would settle the dilemma. If he didn't want to then that was fine but if he did, they could maybe fool around a little.  


“All right,” his voice rasped.  


Trembling, Puck pulled the covers back and he crawled on his hands and knees to join her between the sheets. Once he was settled, Puck turned on her side to face him. She could make out his profile in the dark but still no features.  


“Ever been to a sleepover before?” Puck asked.  


“No,” Brahms said quietly.  


“Ah. This will be your first, then.” She cuddled her pillow under her head, smiling.  


“What happens at sleepovers?” Brahms asked.  


“Well, usually we listen to music and talk and dance until my brothers bust in and scare us,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe watch movies. Tell ghost stories. And... we play Truth or Dare.”  


“What's Truth or Dare?” Brahms asked immediately.  


Puck smirked to herself. He'd fallen right into her trap. “Well, I ask you to choose Truth or Dare. If you choose Truth I get to ask any question and you have to answer. If you choose dare, then I dare you to do something and you can't back out of it.” She paused and then said, “You don't _have to_ have to but that's just how the game's played. My friend Cordelia would always say 'Within reason!' to keep us from getting too crazy.”  


“Okay,” Brahms said, sounding uncomfortable. “I guess... you go first, then. So I can see how it's done.”  


“Fair enough.” Puck stretched out and let her hand brush his arm. She heard him suck in a breath and bit her lip to hold in a giggle. “Truth or Dare, Brahms?”  


“Truth.”  


Shy people always chose truth and Puck never, ever let them get off light. “When you were peeking on me in the shower, what did you most want to see?”  


He made a choking sound and then, “What?”  


“Was there a part of me you especially wanted to see when I was naked and wet?” she asked innocently.  


His breathing was ragged now and he cleared his throat. “I, uh...”  


She waited and he still didn't answer. _Oh god, what am I doing. He hasn't done anything like this before. I'm being cruel, he can't--_  


But then he said on a low growl, “Your nipples. I wanted to see what they looked like.”  


Excited, Puck arched a little involuntarily and then managed to say calmly, “Thank you for your honesty.”  


“You're welcome.” He lay there, just breathing shakily and then said, “My turn?”  


“Mmm hmm.”  


“All right. Truth or dare?”  


“Dare.” Puck grinned and waited.  


He paused, seemingly thinking it over and then said, “I dare you to move closer to me.”  


_Here we go_ Puck thought excitedly and began to move.

~*~

Brahms thought she'd just scoot a little bit closer to tease him the way she'd been doing almost all along but his breath caught in his throat when she threw a leg over him and then straddled him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. He could feel the heat from between her legs through her thin sleep shorts. He mindlessly bucked his hips at the sensation, earning a soft “mmm” from Puck.  


Oh god. Oh god, she was gonna kill him.  


“My turn,” she whispered. “Truth or dare.”  


“Dare,” he answered without having to think about it.  


“I dare you to kiss me.”  


He suddenly felt so embarrassed that his eyes welled with tears. “I'm not gonna be good at it.”  


“Oh, honey,” she said tenderly and he reached out to press a hand to her waist. How could she go from sexy and teasing to sweet and understanding in the blink of an eye. “I'll teach you.”  


“Okay,” he said in a trembling whisper.  


Puck lowered her hands to the mattress and dipped her head to his. There was a bit of nuzzling as she worked out where his mouth was and then her soft lips closed over his. Every part of him went still at the gentle touch. This game had felt naughty from the start and he'd been expecting the same from the kiss but instead it felt... romantic. She slowly opened her mouth and Brahms hesitantly opened his. She hummed soft approval and her tongue almost shyly brushed his before withdrawing to suckle gently at his lower lip.  


He lifted his hands to run through her hair, his fingers weaving through the strands and admiring the silky smooth texture. Her tongue slipped back into his mouth again and he gripped her hair a little tighter, opening his mouth wider for her. He met her tongue stroke for stroke, withdrawing when she did and taking advantage of their parted lips to kiss along her face, marveling at her smooth, sweet smelling skin.  


After what felt simultaneously like several hours and just a few seconds, Puck sat upright again, her breathing a little erratic. She tossed her head and cleared her throat and Brahms settled his hands loosely on her waist again, wanting to keep touching her but making it easy for her to shake him off if she didn't want that.  


“Your turn,” she whispered.  


His turn? What did that... oh. The game.  


Brahms rubbed his thumbs over her hip bones. “Truth or dare.”  


She surprised him by saying, “Truth.”  


He considered the millions of questions he wanted to ask her but settled on probably the most pertinent one for their situation. “Are you going to go out with Malcolm when he calls?”

~*~

Malcolm? Malcolm who? She'd forgotten all about him from the moment Brahms had sat down on her bed. That didn't bode well for any future prospects with the grocer. Not that there had been many concerning him in the first place. She was leaving next week so they were never going to be anything serious. They would have just been a fling. It would have been a nice one, too. She thought wistfully of those dimples of his and his longish hair and mentally said goodbye to Malcolm.  


“No,” she said gently and stroked the back of her hand over his cheek, encountering his beard hair that had brushed her face while they kissed. “I think when he calls, I'll turn it into a hang with Ben. You know, all of us in a group? It won't seem as date-like then.”  


“Okay.”  


He said nothing more so Puck climbed off of him and lay down by his side, closer than she'd been before. “Should we consider the game over?”  


“Yes. It's getting late and you should get some sleep if you want to be up early tomorrow.”  


“Okay.” Puck looked at him uncertainly in the dark. “Are you gonna stay?”  


“May I?”  


“Of course. I invited you.”  


He laughed a little. “That's right, you did.”  


Puck giggled as well. “How do you like it so far?”  


“It's the most fun I've ever had,” he said honestly.  


She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips, leaving a kiss in the palm. She didn't know what it was about him, but he brought out Puck's need to protect and be gentle. Ridiculously, she pictured picking him flowers tomorrow and bringing them to him at night. Stupid. She set his hand down gently and touched her forehead lightly to his shoulder.  


“Good night, Brahms.”  


“Good night, Puck.”  


She gradually drifted into sleep, her consciousness fading away little by little, the last thing she was aware of being lips pressed lightly to her forehead. Then she was out completely and dreaming of a man who stood in shadow, asking her to stay with him forever.


	8. So Ripe So Sweet

Warm and comfy, Puck woke to her bed shifting under her. She furrowed her brow and said, “Nooooo” reaching her hands out to try to stop the movement.  


“Shhh.”  


Her eyes flew open. Brahms. She'd spent the night with Brahms and now he was leaving. She must have fallen asleep draped all over him and he was having to shift her so he could get up. Eagerly, she turned her head to try to get a glimpse of his face but his back was to her, already heading for her closet. She noted his long, curly brown hair and his lean build with admiration. He was dressed in a button up shirt and trousers that were made of good quality but were a little old and worn.  


“Wait,” Puck said.  


Brahms paused but didn't turn around. “You need to be up soon if you want to go to town today.”  


“Can I see you, now?” Puck asked. “Please?”  


“I'd rather you didn't,” Brahms said. His shoulders went stiff.  


She didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to reassure him that she wouldn't judge him harshly but she also didn't want to keep pushing him when he was obviously uncomfortable. So instead she nibbled her lip and fretted over what to do. It had been so easy last night in the dark to be sexy and bold but she was back to being her usual awkward self once she was in daylight again.  


“Okay,” she said finally.  


He relaxed. “I'll be back tonight if you'd like.”  


“I would.” Puck sighed. “I'd also like it if you'd kiss me before you left but...”  


“Right,” Brahms said flatly.  


Puck had sudden inspiration that made her sit up straight. “Oh!”  


“Oh?” He started to turn his head in her direction but caught himself just in time.  


“What if I cover my eyes? Then I won't see you and I can still have a kiss!”  


Brahms laughed softly. “That would solve the problem neatly.”  


Puck covered her eyes with both hands and then said, “Okay, ready!” She heard Brahms shuffle over to her and she started smiling in anticipation. He laughed again before pressing his lips lightly to hers. It was quick and chaste as far as kisses went but it still gave her a little shiver.  


When he pulled back she said, “I like your hair, by the way.”  


“It's longer than I prefer, but thank you.”  


“I can trim it for you!” Puck wilted immediately. “But that would require having to look at you. So, I guess I can't.”  


“Thank you for the offer.” He rubbed her arm lightly and then he moved away from her. “Don't open your eyes until you hear the door shut.”  


“Okay,” Puck said. “Bye.”  


“I'll wait for you here after dinner,” Brahms said and then the closet door clicked shut.  


Curious, Puck dropped her hands and ran over to the closet, tossing the door open. No Brahms, just closet. Where was he going? She looked upwards but there was no entrance to the attic like there was in her mother's closet at home.  


Puck shut the door and heaved a sigh. Time to get ready for her day out with Ben. She made a face to herself and wished she was going with the other cousin.

~*~

Ben took her to a clothing boutique first and Puck started looking through the racks of clothes for something that wasn't white, black, or navy blue. Wasn't it summer? Where were the summer clothes? The saleswoman was ignoring her, instead fawning all over Ben and bringing him every item that wasn't nailed down. He seemed to enjoy the attention and was having fun at the woman's expense, claiming to be interested in clothing items that were on display up high so she'd take them down with a hook. After inspecting the item, he'd say that he'd changed his mind and the poor, frazzled woman would have to put it back. He laughed silently behind her back each time he did this.  


“Jerk,” Puck muttered. She finally found some brightly colored summer clothes hiding in the corner and picked out a few tank tops she liked along with a pair of Daisy Dukes. There was also a cute dress in mint green with pink flamingos on it that she immediately fell in love with. Armed with this haul, she went to the back of the store to the change room. The bored teenage girl standing at the desk popping her gum ran a suspicious look over Puck and then counted the clothes before letting her into a room.  


Everything fit fine, though the dress was a little short. She'd just have to wear shorts underneath it so she wouldn't flash the Heelshires. When she came out of the room, she glanced around and didn't see Ben anywhere. She went to the saleswoman who was hanging up more clothing items, her face flushed with exertion.  


“Hi,” Puck said awkwardly. “Um, have you seen the guy I came here with?”  


“He stepped out to take a call,” the woman said, her tone clipped.  


“Oh. Okay, thanks.” She looked at the clothing in her arms and wondered if Brahms would like what she picked out. The thought of him made her smile and an idea came to mind. “Do you carry lingerie?”  


The woman gestured vaguely and Puck went off in the direction she seemed to have indicated. She found the rack and started looking through what little was there. Mostly it was tame housewife stuff to give the mister a mild thrill but Puck found something red and filmy that had some promise and grabbed a few thongs as well.  


Puck went to the register and the woman joined her quickly. Her bad mood seemed to have faded and she smiled at Puck's selections. “My, my. You're about to make someone very happy, aren't you?”  


With a giggle, Puck handed over her credit card. “I hope so.”

~*~

After dropping their things off at the car, Puck and Ben went to the craft store next. Puck enjoyed looking through all the fabrics and looked longingly at a pattern covered in little frogs. It would make such a cute pair of pajamas for the little doll boy but Puck had a feeling Mrs. Heelshire would turn her nose up at anything adorable and whimsical. Instead, Puck chose solid colored fabric in dark, solemn colors except plaid for the aforementioned pajamas.  


Through all of this, Ben was quite obviously bored but occupied himself playing a game on his phone.  


Puck sighed in exasperation and he looked up at her. “I'm making clothes for a child! I don't get why he has to look like an accountant.”  


“You never met the real Brahms, clearly.”  


Puck sputtered a moment and then, voice pitched higher than normal asked, “What does he have to do with anything?”  


“Isn't it obvious? My aunt's making that doll into a little Brahms clone. You've seen that ridiculous portrait; the resemblance is unmistakable.” Ben looked at his phone once more, dismissing the topic.  


“Oh.” Puck suddenly felt guilty for all the rude thoughts she'd had about Mrs. Heelshire. It turned out she was picky about her design because she'd dressed her little boy a certain way. But why make a Brahms clone when the original was still in the house?  


Ben noticed her silence and looked up again. He tilted his head quizzically. “Are you all right?”  


“I'm fine. I just kind of feel bad.”  


“Are you ill?” he asked.  


It didn't surprise Puck that Ben couldn't understand empathy but it was still unnerving. “No,” she said and turned away from him. “I think I'm done here. I just need to pick out some buttons and zippers and we can go.”  


“Did you want to get lunch next?” Ben asked.  


She didn't like the idea of sitting in a restaurant with him but she was getting hungry. So she nodded and tried not to scowl when he looked smug at having finally gotten Puck Goodfellow to have a meal with him.

~*~

It was well into the afternoon when they returned to the Heelshire house. After lunch, they had gone to into a bookshop to browse. Ben had gotten _The Castle of Otranto_ and started lecturing Puck about it, how it was the first gothic novel ever written. Puck mostly tuned him out as she chose a collection of fairy tales for herself. She was drawn to the pretty leather cover and how the pages were so creamy smooth as she turned them. Her own fairy tale collection was beat up with pages falling out of it, loved and used by four children before retiring forever on her mother's shelf in her study, its busted spine standing out among all the medical texts. Loaded down with their bags, Ben and Puck entered the house and were greeted immediately by Mrs. Heelshire.  


“Ah, you're back!” She was beaming so brightly, it almost lightened up the dreary house. Almost. “Once you've put your things away, I'll show you the work room I have set up for you, Puck dear.”  


Puck was about to respond when Ben said tersely, “Is Uncle Roland in the library?”  


“Yes, I think so,” Mrs. Heelshire replied.  


Ben nodded and then started up the stairs. Puck followed and put her clothes and book away in her room. Then she took the three bags of fabric she'd purchased and followed Mrs. Heelshire down the hall. Her work room was no different from Puck's room, only the windows were larger so they let more light in. A large work table had been placed just under the window, a sewing machine placed on top of it.  


“I hope this suits,” Mrs. Heelshire said.  


“It's great. Thanks.” Puck set her bags down next to the basket. “Do you want to see the fabric I bought?”  


She did and to Puck's relief, Mrs. Heelshire smiled in approval at Puck's choices, rubbing the fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “Ah, this is good quality fabric. Very durable.”  


_What's she planning to do with this doll?_ Puck felt creeped out and glanced away from the woman. Her gaze landed on the boy doll seated in a chair, silently watching them with his glass eyes. Puck jumped and immediately felt like an idiot.  


“I'm leaving him with you so you can take his measurements,” Mrs. Heelshire said, following her gaze to the doll. “And to try on his clothes of course.”  


“Right. Yeah.” Puck pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow down.  


“Well! I'll leave you to it, then.” Mrs. Heelshire gave one last adoring look at the doll and then left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.  


Puck stared at the door and then sighed heavily. Then she crossed the room and picked up the doll. “You're kind of scary but I'm sorry that I'm about to dress you in weird Puritan clothing. I think you might look almost normal if I could make you a pair of jeans.”  


Then she sat down with doll Brahms and got to work.

~*~

Dinner with the Heelshires was quiet and uneventful as usual but Puck noticed that Ben was particularly tense. He clutched the fork in his hand like he wanted to jam it into someone's eyeball so Puck did her best not to look in his direction. The Heelshires told her all about a garden party they'd had years ago, reminiscing on the days when the house and grounds hadn't been so hard to keep up. It made her sad for them; after the fire they must have given up on socializing all together. They couldn't run the risk of anyone discovering their secret.  


After, they retired to the sitting room and Mrs. Heelshire played the harpsichord for them. Puck smiled politely but secretly thought that a piano sounded way better. It was the first night here that Mr. Heelshire and Ben didn't play chess. Instead, Ben read his book and Mr. Heelshire worked on a crossword puzzle.  


When Mrs. Heelshire had finished performing, she sat down with her own book. Puck chose that time to break away and wished everyone goodnight. Ben didn't offer to escort her upstairs so Puck left the room feeling light hearted. Maybe he realized today during lunch when she made a point of telling him what a good _friend_ he was that the two of them were never going to be a thing.  


Puck entered her room and started to reach for the light switch.  


“Don't.”  


“Oh!” Puck jerked her hand away from the switch like it had electrocuted her. “God, you--!”  


“Shut the door and leave the light off.”  


“Bossy pants.” Puck did as Brahms had told her and stood in the dark. “What does Simon say now?”  


“Simon?”  


“You know, that kid's game? 'Simon says, jump. Simon says, turn around.'”  


“Well, Brahms says come here.”  


She shivered at how low and commanding he sounded. Obediently, she started walking to him and of course stubbed her foot on the bed. She gasped sharply in pain and started to cry.  


“Puck? What happened?”  


“Your stupid dumb ass made me walk in the dark and I hurt myself!” Puck wanted to punch him.  


She felt hands reach for hers. “Come here,” he said gently. “Let me see.”  


“It's dark as fuck in here! How are you going to see?!”  


“Shhh. I can see better than you. Sit down.”  


Sniffling, Puck sat on the edge of her bed. She felt him lightly grasp her around her ankle and place her foot in his lap. He gently wiggled a toe and she squeaked and tried to slap at him. “Stop it!”  


“It doesn't feel broken. I think you just bruised it. And you're bleeding a little.”  


“Great!”  


“Puck. Come on, now. Wait a moment.” He set her foot down and he went into the bathroom. She heard the water running in the sink and he returned a moment later, pressing a cool, wet washcloth to her foot. “There. Does that feel better?”  


“A little,” Puck admitted.  


“Poor darling,” he said quietly. “I won't surprise you in the dark again. I didn't think about you possibly bumping into furniture and hurting yourself.”  


“I'm not usually a klutz,” Puck said miserably.  


“You aren't,” he said, his tone reassuring. “It's dark and you aren't familiar with the layout of the room. It could have happened to anyone.”  


Puck smiled. “You're really sweet, you know that?”  


Brahms laughed, sounding bitter. “Oh, yes. The sweet murderer. The sweet voyeur who spies on women when they're nude and vulnerable.”  


Both of those things were true of him so Puck didn't know what to say. So she said nothing but reached out a hand to pass over his long, curly hair. She paused when she heard his sharp intake of breath but then continued, letting a curl wrap around her finger. Feeling his soft hair on her skin and listening to him breathe made her feel warm all over. She flexed the foot that was resting in his lap and when he moaned, her arousal was sharp and instant.  


“Want to come up into bed with me?” she whispered.  


He carefully set her injured foot on the floor and a moment later, he was sitting beside her. She rested her head on Brahms's shoulder and he hesitantly wrapped an arm around her. It felt nice to just sit there but Puck wasn't content to do that all night. She turned her head to nuzzle his shoulder and chest.  


“What are you--” He stopped when she kissed his neck and let out a shaky breath.  


She reached up and cupped his cheek, turning his face toward her. They kissed, slow and wet and hot, and Puck twined her arms around his neck. The ache between her legs intensified and it filled her with a sense of wonder. She'd never gotten turned on by so little from a guy. Her high school boyfriend had once huffed in annoyance that she wasn't immediately ready to go the instant he had an erection. When they broke up a few months later, he'd told his friends that she was drier than the Sahara. Luckily, that had backfired on him and the guys had teased him for not being able to make a girl wet. Still, there had been a rumor circulating not long after that that Puck was frigid. It made her self conscious of her sexuality and she hadn't had sex again until a summer trip to visit her mother's family in Italy and she'd met a guy who she'd fooled around with a few times. He'd managed to arouse her but it took a bit more than what Brahms was doing now. Neither of them had even taken their clothes off yet and the inside of her panties was as slick as a slip and slide.  


Speaking of which...  


Puck broke the kiss and whispered, “I haven't gotten ready for bed yet.”  


“Right,” Brahms said a little breathlessly. “Did you need to...?”  


“Mmm hmm. Wait here. I'll be back.” Puck stood up and limped to the bathroom, walking slowly so she wouldn't walk into anymore pieces of furniture. She got a mischievous thought and said, “Actually, I don't want to stub my other foot. Do you think you could meet me at the bathroom door and lead me back to bed?”  


“Of course.”  


Puck smiled. “Thanks!” Once she reached the bathroom, she waited until she was inside before switching on the light. Then she washed her face and moisturized, brushed her teeth, and then stripped her clothes off. She looked at her blushing face in the mirror a little defiantly. He wasn't going to see anything and it might take him awhile to realize she wasn't wearing anything at all. It would be fun to see how long it took for him to catch on.  


She switched out the light and opened the door. Brahms was standing there waiting and he lightly took her hand. She managed not to giggle as he led her back to the bed then held the covers back so she could climb in first. He circled the bed to get on what she supposed was going to be his side from now on.  


“How's your foot?” Brahms asked.  


“It's fine.” She winced a little when she tried to wiggle her toes. “Still sore.”  


“I could get you ice,” he said worriedly.  


She was about to say no, that was fine, but ice actually sounded great. When she said so, he quickly jumped up and left the room. Puck rolled to her back and stared up at the ceiling. How far did she want to go tonight? She was fine with whatever, so long as they both got to feel good. She figured it was up to Brahms, who hadn't been with anyone before. She could encourage him and give him a nudge here and there but ultimately she planned on respecting his comfort level.  


Brahms reappeared with a makeshift ice pack and Puck peeled the covers back to wrap it around her foot. Then they laid down again and Puck kissed him gratefully.  


“My hero,” she said teasingly.  


He laughed and reached out to brush her hair back from her face. “Funny kind of hero. I don't even have a cape.” She giggled and he lowered his hand to stroke her shoulder and then went still. His hand splayed experimentally over her shoulder and then down her arm. “Er... Puck?”  


“Yeah?” she asked innocently.  


“Are you...” he swallowed. “Are you not wearing anything?”  


“Not a stitch. I was wondering how long it would take you to notice.”  


His voice was low. “Did you strip when I left for the ice?”  


“No. In the bathroom.”  


“Oh.”  


He was quiet for a long time and Puck started to get worried. “Brahms, is this okay? I can put something on.”  


“No,” he said quickly. “No, I-- I'm fine. I was just wondering...”  


“Wondering what?” she asked softly.  


“If I could touch you,” he whispered.  


“I wish you would,” she replied.  


Brahms exhaled and then slid close to her. He dove in for a kiss that was so ferociously hungry that she whimpered. He rolled her to her back and propped himself over her, one knee between her thighs. Then he was kissing all down her front as she slid her hands through his hair, panting. His mouth closed over one of her nipples and she bucked her hips upward, loving the pull of his lips around her, his hot tongue flicking.  


“Please,” she begged.  


He released her nipple and she whimpered again in frustration. “Please what?”  


“Mmm!” She lifted her hips again. “Lowerrrrrr.”  


“You want me to kiss you lower?” he asked.  


“Yes!” she mewled, trembling all over.  


“All right,” he whispered and kissed her sternum, her bellybutton, her hipbone until... he knelt between her legs.

~*~

As Brahms stared, Puck spread her legs wider. He couldn't see perfectly in the dark but he could scent her arousal and felt the primal urge to rip his clothes off and fuck her into the mattress. He wasn't sure what he could do to give her pleasure, though. He'd only seen Italian cinema from the 70s which was a bit more graphic than American or British film but still didn't show penetration or any of the details. They were films, not instructional videos.  


“Please,” Puck said again, her voice trembling. Brahms felt ashamed for hesitating as long as he had. It was clear she needed release.  


Brahms reached out a finger and tentatively traced her slit from top to bottom. She shivered and said “Mmm” dreamily so he did it again. He noticed as he stroked that she trembled more when he was at the top of her pussy so he lingered there and gently moved his finger back and forth. There was something firm and slick there that when stroked, made her thighs start trembling. She clutched the covers under her and twisted them in her fists.  


“Do you want me to kiss you here, too?” Brahms asked. “Or is this fine?”  


“Oh god,” she said brokenly. “If you can use your mouth, that would be so great.”  


Brahms moved back on the bed, and laid down fully between her legs, mindful of not knocking her injured foot. He kissed her softly where her legs joined and when she let out a frustrated cry, he went back to that little nub of flesh and started stroking it with his tongue. Her juices reminded him of apple pie and he swirled his tongue to taste more.  


Her fingers sank into his hair and she rode his face, moaning. His cock was so hard it ached, so he began thrusting against the bed to relieve himself. He was stroking her with the same rhythm which she must have liked because her head began thrashing back and forth on the pillow.  


“Brahms!” All at once she went still and then trembled all over, her thighs clamping around his head. She continued to hump against his face until she was finished, then sagged backward and let her thighs fall open once more. “Oh my god, that was so good,” she said, slurring slightly.  


_Ohshit_. Brahms hastily got up on his knees and tore the fastenings on his trousers open and pulled out his cock. He stroked up and down once, twice, three times, and then came on Puck's inner thigh. He shook with the force and intensity of his orgasm and stared down at Puck splayed beneath him.  


“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I got a little...”  


“I don't care,” Puck said with a tired laugh. She raised a hand and ran it through her hair, laughing again. “God, I feel so good...”  


Brahms felt absurdly proud of himself. “I'm glad.”  


“And you?” she asked. “Are you okay?”  


“More than okay.”  


“Mmm.” She closed her thighs, no doubt smearing his ejaculate all over her and the thought made him shut his eyes and try to hold in a desperate moan. “Do you wanna take your clothes off and lay down with me?”  


She had barely finished her sentence and he was already ripping his clothes off. He didn't care that she started laughing, it wasn't mean laughter. She sounded happy. He liked that he could make her happy. Nude, he slipped under the covers and Puck rolled over to him, draping herself across his chest. She'd fallen asleep that way last night, as well.  


“Night,” Puck said dreamily, already drifting away from him into sleep.  


“Good night,” Brahms whispered and then laid awake for hours, just listening to her breathe and holding her, stroking her smooth back.


	9. I Can Make You Happy at Least Now and Then

When Brahms woke the next morning, daylight was just beginning to filter into the room. He watched the dust motes floating around in the golden light and hugged Puck where she still lay on his chest.  


“Hi,” she said quietly.  


He jolted and then went still. “How long have you been awake?” he asked sharply.  


“Awhile.” She kissed his chest. “Don't worry, I didn't look at your face.”  


She was telling the truth. If she'd gotten a look, she would have run screaming from the room the way his mother had all those years ago when his father had pulled him out of the fire. He allowed himself to relax and nuzzled the top of her head.  


“Thank you,” he whispered.  


“Yeah,” Puck replied. Her voice perked up when she said, “Anyway, I didn't want to look because then you might leave and then I'll have to journey to the underworld for pomegranate seeds or something while I tried to find you again.”  


Brahms laughed delightedly. “Was that a Cupid and Psyche reference?”  


“Oh, yeah. My brothers and I grew up on Greek and Roman mythology. And fables and fairy tales and folk tales...”  


“That explains why you bought a Brothers Grimm book while you were out yesterday.” He started to nuzzle her hair again but she'd fallen still in his arms and he realized that he'd said the wrong thing.  


“I put that in a drawer when I got home. Were you going through my stuff?”  


“Well, I had time to kill until I saw you again.”  


“So you thought you could snoop through my things?!”  


Brahms winced. “Lower your voice.”  


“Oh, get bent!” Puck shoved out of his arms and rolled away from him. “How dare you invade my privacy? You wouldn't be feeling so hot if I'd peeked at your face while you were sleeping, right?” She got up out of bed and stormed across the room to her dresser where she pulled out a t-shirt that said “Varsity Girls Volleyball” and pulled it over her head. She fumed with her back to him, still respecting his wishes even in her anger.  


“I just wanted to know more about you,” Brahms said, knowing that he sounded whiny and hating it.  


“So then just fucking _ask_!” She threw her arms up and then turned, looking intently down at the ground as she walked over to the bed. “I want you to promise me right now that you're not going to snoop again.”  


“I promise,” he said immediately.  


“Good.” She rested her knees against the bed and crossed her arms, sighing.  


Her gaze was trained intently on the duvet. “What did you even want to know anyway?”  


He hesitated and then said quietly, “Anything I could find out. We've slept together twice now and I don't even know your middle name.”  


The corner of her mouth tipped up in a reluctant smile. “It's Anne.”  


“Robin Anne Goodfellow. I like it.”  


“Thanks.” Puck got back into bed and glanced at the alarm clock. “Five thirty? Ugh, it's crazy how early the sun rises during the summer.”  


“I like when it's light late, though,” Brahms said.  


“Me too,” Puck agreed. She yawned and turned onto her side facing away from Brahms. “Anything else you want to ask?”  


Brahms wanted to ask her how many lovers she'd had, what her favorite color was, how many countries she'd been to, which of her parents she preferred more, if she liked astronomy, if she liked a star or an angel on top of the Christmas tree, or if she'd ever gone roller skating. The questions were infinite but he managed to narrow it down to one. She was probably going to fall back asleep soon so there would only be time for one more question.  


“What are your brothers like?” Brahms asked.  


“You know I have brothers?” She sounded drowsy; he was already losing her.  


“You told my mother that you have three brothers and you've mentioned one of them to me. Tony.”  


Puck yawned. “Yeah. Tony's a year younger than me. He's an asshole but he's my best friend. Plays a lot of sports, always flexing his muscles. He's going to UW in the fall to be a doctor like our parents. Johnny's sixteen and he plays football and started playing the guitar last year. He's pretty good but I think he took it up mostly to compete with Tony for girls. And then our baby brother Liam is thirteen. He used to be 'Willy' until he was ten and decided that Liam sounded cooler. He runs track and plays hockey. He got braces put on last month and now he won't smile in pictures and it breaks my heart.”  


Brahms reached out and rubbed a comforting circle between her shoulder blades. “I'm sorry I snooped.”  


“It's okay,” she mumbled. “Just don't do it again.”  


“I won't,” he whispered. He waited until she fell asleep and then slipped from the bed, dressed, and went back to his own space, trying to think of ways to make up for his betrayal of her trust.

~*~

Puck had gotten to work immediately after breakfast and her morning run. She had completed two outfits for the Brahms doll and was midway through work on his plaid pajamas. She turned the little guy over in her hands, checking out his pale blue button up shirt and navy blue short pants. It was so plain and drab. Mrs. Heelshire was really married to this color palette though, so Puck couldn't at least liven it up with a bright pocket square or a little ball cap. Maybe she could embroider his initials on one of his back pockets? That might be nice.  


“Whatever,” Puck said with a sigh and set the doll down. She checked her wristwatch and realized that she should break for lunch. The family usually ate close to one and it was nearing twelve thirty.  


First, though, she needed to call her family and let them know that she was staying an extra week with the Heelshires. Puck went back to her room to use the extension there. She curled up on the bed and grabbed the phone, dialing her father's cellphone number.  


When his voicemail picked up, she sighed and waited for the beep. “Hi, Daddy, it's Puck. I'm staying another week at my friend's house. I'll see you next Monday. Bye.” She hung up and then dialed her mother.  


“'Lo?”  


“Tony?” Puck sat up straight. “It's four a.m. Why are you answering Mom's phone?”  


“Why are you calling Mom's phone?”  


“Don't be a dickhead,” Puck said. If she'd been in the room, she'd have given him a whack upside the head.  


“Mom's asleep but she left her phone on the counter. What do you want?”  


Puck rolled her eyes. “Can you tell her that I'm staying another week with my friend?”  


“I'm sure she'll be fascinated by this news.”  


“Tony.”  


“Yeah, I'll tell her. So you having fun with what's his name?”  


Puck sighed. “No, I'm not.”  


His tone changed. “Has he done something to you?”  


“No, but he's pretty pushy. I probably shouldn't have come here in the first place.” Puck ran a hand through her hair. “I like his family, though.”  


“Well, just keep your door locked at night.” Tony paused then asked, “The extra week was his idea, right?”  


“That's right.”  


“Well, if he decides to keep you another week, call Dad to come get you.”  


Puck laughed bitterly. “If I can even get Dad on the phone.”  


“Well, is there a train station?”  


“Yeah, way the hell into town. I can't drag all my shit the ten miles into town.”  


“So take a cab!”  


“The town doesn't have a cab company!”  


Tony sighed heavily, like Puck had been at the town meeting and said _Hey, let's not have a cab company in town even though we have a train station!_ “Okay. If Asshole makes you stay another week, call me and I'll fly out and get you.”  


“It won't come to that,” Puck said but she smiled a little at the thought of her brother coming to her rescue.  


“Yeah, I hope not. I got stuff to do.”  


“Yeah, stuff that keeps you up at four in the morning.”  


“I just got in, smartass. I was on my way to bed but you called and interrupted me.”  


“Interrupted you doing what?” she asked, holding in laughter.  


“Mind your business.”  


She laughed out loud and then said, “Okay, fine, I'll mind my business. Leave a note for mom that I called and then get your ass to bed.”  


“You're only fourteen months older than me.”  


“Yeah, which still makes me older and wiser.”  


She could practically hear her brother smirk. “Well, you're half right.”  


“Don't quote Kevin Bacon movies at me. Night, Tony.”  


“Night, Puck.”  


Puck set the phone down and it immediately rang. She paused, uncertain. Maybe it was her father calling her back? Should she get it? When it rang again, she decided to go ahead and answer it.  


“Hellshire residence,” she said cautiously.  


“Hello, is this Puck?” Malcolm asked.  


“Hi, yes!” Puck sat up straight. “Did you need to talk to Mrs. Heelshire?”  


“No, no, I haven't called about groceries. I was wondering if you wanted to go out Tuesday?”  


Puck licked her lips nervously. “Right, yeah. Ben actually wanted to come along with us if that's okay?”  


There was a beat where she sensed Malcolm didn't think this was okay but his tone was still light and friendly when he replied, “Of course, yeah, that's great. I haven't been out with Ben in ages. There's a whole group of us at the pub and you'll fit in perfectly. How's everything at the house? Anything else making you uncomfortable?”  


_Loads_. “I'm fine,” Puck said. “I got started on the doll's clothes today. He's looking pretty sharp.”  


“Well, you know what ZZ Top says,” Malcolm teased.  


They both said, “Every girl's crazy for a sharp dressed man,” and started laughing.  


When they settled, Malcolm said, “So I'll pop 'round and meet you two at let's say nine on Tuesday?”  


“Ben has a car,” Puck said.  


“Right, but I've invited you two out, I feel responsible for you having a good time so the pair of you can go ahead and drink and I'll abstain so I can get you home safely.”  


“That's really nice of you. Thanks, Malcolm.”  


“You're welcome. Look, I've got to go. I'll see you Tuesday, all right?”  


“All right. Bye.”  


“Bye.”  


Puck hung up the phone and sat there for a moment. A part of her regretted giving up Malcolm. He was sweet and uncomplicated and she'd actually seen his face. It was probably for the best, though. Ben probably would have gotten really weird about her seeing Malcolm and it was weird enough that she was secretly sleeping with his allegedly dead cousin.  


Not wanting to think about it anymore, Puck went downstairs for lunch.

~*~

Brahms had searched around the attic, looking for something nice for Puck. He found old clothes she could modify into costumes, the project his mother had originally suggested before switching to the ghastly doll and its new wardrobe. She was already doing a lot of sewing and might not want to do even more sewing while unwinding. There was some old costume jewelry of his grandmother's but his father would probably get upset if he saw Puck wearing it and assume she'd stolen it. An old book of Greek myths was dusty and unremarkable, the illustrations inside it actually quite poor in quality.  


He really dug into a far corner and opened a trunk, lifting away a quilt. A face stared up at him. Yelping, Brahms jumped back. What in the world was that, a dead body?? He crept on his knees back to the trunk and peered into the placid face of a large doll. Its face was nearly as big as his. He considered it for a moment and then lifted it up out of the trunk. Its blonde curls hung in limp, raggedy clumps to its shoulders. Its white dress had stained yellow with age and the thing smelled awful. Still. The face was smooth and unblemished.  


Brahms tucked the doll under his arm and hurried through his crawlspace to his main room. He set the doll down on his work bench and grabbed his pen knife and worked to saw away the big doll's face. With a satisfied sigh, he tugged the face loose and then searched around for a length of twine. He made holes in either side of the mask to tie it into place over his face.  


Perfect. He smoothed a hand over the mask, satisfied. Now he could stand face to face with Puck without showing himself. What a brilliant idea.  


He hurried to Puck's work room to show her.

~*~

Puck was just putting the finishing touches on the doll's pajamas when she heard a low voice calling her name. She absently looked up and something from a horror film stood in the corner, staring at her. She dropped her work and screamed at the top of her lungs.  


The figure startled and then opened a closet and ducked inside. A moment later the work room door flew open and Ben stood there, his face flushed and eyes crazed.  


“What is it? Are you all right? What happened?”  


“I... I...” Puck didn't know what to say and to her embarrassment, started crying.  


Ben's expression softened and he hurried to her, holding her shoulders tightly. “Tell me. What happened? Why did you scream?”  


“I thought I saw something,” Puck said miserably, wiping at her tears. She didn't know how she could describe it. A huge porcelain doll come to life, with shining, crazy looking eyes? What the fuck was that? Was it Brahms? But why would Brahms scare her?  


“What?” Ben asked, starting to sound impatient.  


“I don't know,” Puck said, knowing she sounded stupid. “I was probably imagining things. I've been staring at this stupid scary doll all day. I probably just saw its reflection in the window and thought someone was behind me.”  


Ben watched her thoughtfully a moment and then gathered her into his arms, hugging her tightly. He gave the top of her head a kiss.  


“I'm sorry my aunt put you to work on such a stupid project,” he said gently. “You don't have to continue if you don't want to.”  


Puck sniffled and tried to push back on his chest but he wasn't letting her go. “No, I'll finish it. I'm fine. I just need to take more breaks when I'm working or I get too caught up in my own head.”  


He rubbed his hand up and down her back and it felt like his fingers felt deliberately at the lines of her bra through her clothes. Before she could register this and try to pull away, Ben let her go and stepped back. Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief which he handed to her.  


Puck took it and dabbed her eyes. “Thanks.”  


“You're welcome.” Ben slid his hands into his pockets and watched her more with that intent, considering look in his eyes. “Who were you speaking to earlier?”  


“Hmmm?” Puck frowned at him as she wiped the tear tracks off of her face.  


“In your room, I heard you talking to someone earlier.”  


“Oh! I made some phone calls today. I talked to my brother and then Malcolm called. He's invited us out on Tuesday. He says he'll pick us up at nine o'clock.”  


He searched her eyes for a moment and then slowly nodded. “All right. That sounds fun. You could use a break from this house. A vacation from this vacation.”  


Puck laughed miserably. “Oh, I'll get one. I'm going back to the States next month.”  


“Sounds nice.” He gave her a half smile and then indicated the door behind him with his head. “Let's go downstairs and play a game before dinner. How about checkers?”  


“Great,” Puck agreed.  


She and Ben left the room, leaving the door open. They didn't notice the closet door open again and the masked figure sadly watching them walk away as it began to unlace the twine tied behind its head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kevin Bacon movie that Puck and her brother quote from ("I'm older and wiser."/"Well, you're half right.") is Tremors, probably my favorite creature movie ever and it's got Kevin Bacon at peak hotness and a nerdy cute heroine and Reba McEntire for some reason. Definitely in my top ten favorite films.
> 
> And I may have based Puck's brother on a Tik Tok personality but I'm not saying who. At least not yet. :P


	10. I Want to Give You One Hundred and Ten

Puck tossed and turned in bed and then finally sat up. Where was Brahms? He said he'd be here. She mentally replayed the morning and wondered if he was avoiding her because of their fight over his snooping. It seemed like they'd made up, though. Maybe they hadn't? Hed been gone by the time she'd woken up the second time.  


Sighing, Puck gave up and threw her covers back. She slid out of bed and limped to the closet. Everyone had noticed her limping earlier in the day and remarked on it. It felt good not to lie and tell them honestly that she'd hit her foot while bumbling around in the dark. Luckily, no one had asked why she hadn't bothered to put on a light.  


When she reached the closet she opened it and looked around. No Brahms hiding. How was he getting in and out of her room through here? She pushed on the sides of the walls, wondering if there was a catch somewhere. If there was a secret door, it would make more sense if it was in the back of the closet. She pushed her hanging clothes to one side, wincing at the shriek the hangers made along the rod and reached out her groping fingers for the wall. She pushed here and there until suddenly there was a click and the secret door swung open. All those Nancy Drew books she'd read in the fourth grade had really paid off.  


The secret passage was dark, even darker than her room. It made her uneasy so she stepped back into her bedroom and found her phone. She turned on its flashlight function and then passed quietly through the secret door.  


She'd been expecting spider webs and rats squeaking along by her feet but the passage was fairly clean. This must be the route Brahms took around the house without encountering anyone. It was spooky but fascinating. She followed the passage as it turned and twisted until finally, she turned a corner and saw light. Puck blinked and turned off the flashlight.  


The narrow hallway opened up into a large space. White Christmas lights hung along the plain wooden walls, providing the space with muted illumination. It was the kind of light that would have made Puck's nonnie cluck her tongue and say she'll ruin her eyes. Creepily, there were lots of taxidermy animals and... was that a fridge? Puck boggled at the appliance for a moment and then forced herself to look away and spotted Brahms laying on the bed, his back to her. He was holding a really old looking book with yellowed pages he had to very carefully turn so they wouldn't rip.  


“Hi,” Puck said softly.  


Brahms dropped the book, jolting. He almost whipped around to face her but caught himself before he could fully face her. His shoulders hunched and he said harshly, “What are you doing in here?”  


“Well, you've invaded my room loads of times. I thought I'd return the favor.”  


“You shouldn't be here.”  


Puck sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You never showed up so...”  


“I didn't think you'd want me to,” he said bitterly.  


“Why?”  


“Because you weren't very happy with me the last time you saw me.”  


“I thought we made up and everything was fine?”  


Brahms tilted his head. “What?”  


“I got mad at you for snooping but you said you wouldn't do it again and that was it. Fight over. You didn't need to hide yourself away from me because of that.”  


“I'm not talking about that,” Brahms said. “I'm talking about the work room.”  


“The work--?” She remembered the horrible masked figure. “Oh my god, that was you? You scared the shit out of me!”  


“I figured as much. Who did you think it was?”  


Puck shrugged then realized that he couldn't see the gesture with his back to her. “I don't know. I didn't think it was you because you don't scare me. I never thought you _would_ scare me. At least not intentionally.”  


He picked up on her accusatory tone and his shoulders hunched even more. “I wasn't trying to scare you! I was trying to do the opposite. I thought if I wore a mask, we could speak face to face freely. That idea backfired, though. My ideas always seem to backfire with you.”  


“Can you put it on now and face me?” Puck asked.  


“Are you sure you want me to do that?”  


“Yes. I don't want to talk to your back anymore.”  


Brahms reached under his pillow and pulled out the mask. He tied it onto his face and then slowly turned to face her. The blank mask with his eyes glinting within the eye holes made her start to quake with fear. It reminded her of the girl in _Eyes Without a Face_ who had worn a similar mask. But Brahms, like Christiane in the film, wasn't a villain, just a sad figure who didn't want to be alone.  


So Puck steeled her nerves and approached the bed, not letting her gaze stray from Brahms's eyes. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, making him nervously shift away from her. Puck reached out for his hand and grasped it, giving it a squeeze.  


“I'm sorry I hurt your feelings,” Puck said. “You startled me. I'm not going to make a habit out of screaming in your face, okay?”  


He nodded and Puck nodded back.  


“Okay.” She released his hand and then said cheerfully, “So are you going to give me a tour of your secret Brahms passages?”

~*~

Brahms really didn't know what to make of Puck. She was so brazen with him at night, opening her legs wide for his fingers and tongue to explore her, and then she woke in the morning and girlishly requested kisses with her hands over her eyes. Now she was trailing along after him through his pathways running through the house, whispering questions about their construction, where each turning led. When she had sat next to him on the bed to apologize, he thought that she might suggest taking him back to her room. He never in a million years would have guessed she'd want to go exploring.  


Now, Brahms led her to the basement, their last stop on tonight's tour. He had mostly showed her his hiding places downstairs so as not to accidentally wake his family. He stopped and gestured around and said, “Basement” his voice slightly muffled behind the mask. She had let him wear it and only flinched a little when she looked at him.  


Puck pointed to the window. “That's the way out?”  


“Yes. I suppose. If you didn't take the stairs or one of my ways into the house itself.”  


“Do you ever use it?” she asked, curiously.  


“No. Never.” Brahms slid his hands into his pockets and stared down at his feet, remembering vividly the last time he'd been outside of his house. He'd been pulled from the fire and his father was standing over him, beating him with his jacket to put out the flames. His mother had been screaming.  


“Why don't we?”  


He thought he must have heard her wrong and looked up sharply to see Puck limping over to the window and reaching up to open it. She could just reach it, she was so tall, and she turned to give him a warm, encouraging smile.  


“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “No.”  


“Why?” Puck asked, genuinely curious.  


“Why?” Brahms repeated. Was she being deliberately thick? “Because I don't leave the house! Ever!”  


“Yeah, but why though?” Puck insisted. “It's night. Everyone's asleep. You don't have neighbors. Let's go outside for a walk. It'll be just dark enough that you can take your mask off and I won't be able to see you. Come on, let's get some air.”  


“There's plenty of air in the house,” Brahms said stubbornly.  


“Fresh air,” Puck clarified. She reached out a hand to him. “Come on, boost me up, I can't pull myself out on my own. My foot's too fucked.”  


Brahms crossed his arms across his chest. “No.”  


“What are you afraid of?” she asked. It should have sounded challenging but instead she asked it so gently that it brought sudden tears to his eyes.  


What was he afraid of? Everything. That he'd take a few steps out and would immediately want to go inside and never go out again. That he'd take a few steps out and would immediately never want to go in again. That his parents would find out about this and start locking everything so he couldn't try to escape. He didn't want to have to take a hard look at what was actually keeping him in this house and within its walls.  


But... he felt safe with Puck. He wouldn't be as afraid if she was by his side, his strong Amazon with her gentle gray eyes.  


“We can take just a few steps and if you want to come right in then we will,” she said. “All I'm asking is that you give it a try. Will you? Please?”  


He hesitated a little longer and then slowly nodded. Her whole face lit up with a huge smile and he went to her then. Reaching out, he lightly brushed the tips of his fingers over her silky smooth hair and then laced his fingers together and knelt so she could step up into the cradle he'd made for her foot.  


Brahms boosted her out the window and then took the hand she offered to pull himself up and out as well.  


Then there he was, standing on the prickly lawn in his bare feet and feeling a cool breeze ruffle his hair. He eagerly ripped the mask off and tilted his face up to the sky, letting the air caress his face. Real, fresh, outdoor air and not the dusty musty indoor kind. Puck still held his hand and he squeezed tightly, never wanting to let her go, not for a second. Not when a warm night like this existed, crickets chirping and moonlight shining down on them.  


“Let's walk,” Puck whispered and gave him a tug.  


They walked side by side away from the house and for a crazy moment, he allowed himself to imagine that the two of them were leaving it forever. The thought filled him with both fear and a measure of glee.

~*~

Even with the moon shining, it was still extremely dark out. Puck had gone camping in the Olympic forest with her family as a kid and this place was just as dark, so far out from civilization, with no outdoor lights to deter wildlife. Was there wildlife in England? Like bears and wolves? Probably not. All the same, she did move a little closer to Brahms.  


“How far are we walking?” Brahms asked.  


“I don't know,” Puck replied. “As far as we want, I guess.” She winced when she suddenly stepped on a rock. “Or as far as we can get in bare feet.”  


“Are you hurt?” he asked immediately. Brahms stopped walking and turned to face her, bending to look at her feet. “Show me.”  


Puck felt herself blushing. This was her second injury in front of him; he was going to think her claim that she wasn't a klutz was wishful thinking at best and an outright lie at worst. “It's fine.”  


He'd lifted her foot off the ground and was looking at the bottom. He hissed in sympathy. “You've cut your heel.”  


Reaching out a hand to his shoulder in order to steady herself, Puck said again, “It's fine.”  


“No, it isn't.” Brahms stood and turned his back to her swiftly. “Hop on.”  


“What?” she asked.  


Brahms put his mask on so he could have both hands free. He bent a little at the waist. “Go on. Piggy back.”  


“No, Brahms.” Puck folded her arms. “I'm really heavy.”  


“Well, I'm stronger than I look. Come on.”  


Puck remembered her high school boyfriend making a big deal of picking her up on Valentine's Day and his pained grunt followed by dropping her SPLAT on the cold linoleum of the hallway. The laughter and jeers of the other students was something that even now kept her awake at night if she let her brain go down that path.  


“I don't want to, Brahms,” she said, her voice starting to shake.  


“I promise not to drop you,” he said, his tone gentle.  


How many times did she need to say no?! Narrowing her eyes at him she snapped, “Fine” and took a flying leap onto his back, circling her legs around his waist and gripping his shoulders in her hands. Maybe he'd learn what “no” meant when she snapped him in two!  


Instead of snapping in two, however, Brahms staggered only slightly and then started walking, holding her behind her knees.  


“Are you okay?” Puck asked, taken aback.  


“Fine,” Brahms said cheerfully and didn't even sound out of breath. “How are you?”  


“I'm fine.” Puck let her arms dangle down his chest. “The last boy who did that hurt himself.”  


“Good thing I'm not a boy,” Brahms said.  


“Nope, you're a sexy man,” she teased and then yelped when he suddenly stumbled. “I can walk on my own!”  


“It's fine,” Brahms said, sounding embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “Was there anywhere in particular you wanted to go on the grounds?”  


Puck thought about it a moment and then shook her head. “No. I've seen some of it on my morning run but there's still a lot of ground I haven't covered yet. Is there anything cool you'd want me to see?”  


“Maybe not tonight, but about a mile out from the house there's a pond.”  


“That could come in handy on a hot day,” Puck said. She got an idea and said, “We could re-create the lift scene from Dirty Dancing!”  


“I don't know what that is,” Brahms said.  


She pouted. “Most boys don't. It was more of a girl movie, anyway.”  


“Well, I wasn't like most boys.”  


“What were you like? When you were little, I mean. No one's really said and I was just... wondering.”  


Brahms didn't answer for awhile and Puck started to wonder if maybe he hadn't heard her. Then she wondered if she'd inadvertently hit a sore spot and he was going to refuse to answer. But then he said, “I was quiet. I always felt awkward. The other children didn't like me so I got picked on all the time. I only had one friend.”  


“And Ben made you kill her,” Puck whispered.  


He said nothing and Puck gently pressed her forehead to back of his head.  


“I read a lot,” Brahms continued. “I liked music quite a bit. My parents still play my opera records for me but now they play them extra loud so I can hear them in the walls. They haven't done so in awhile, though, probably because you're here.”  


“Do you play any instruments?” Puck asked.  


“The harpsichord. You didn't seem to like it much when my mother played it.”  


Puck made a face. “It's kind of weird. Not as bad as an accordion, though.”  


“Oh, accordions are dreadful.”  


“Thank you! I'd sooner defend a keytar than an accordion.”  


“A keytar...?”  


“A keyboard guitar.”  


“Huh.” Brahms thought that over. “I'm trying to picture that and all I'm seeing is an accordion.”  


“It's really just a keyboard strapped to your front but without the squeeze box feature of the accordion.” She rubbed a hand over his chest, startling him breathless and said, “Why don't we stop somewhere before we go too far into the woods? We can rest and then go back to the house.”  


Brahms mumbled something that vaguely sounded like agreement and then stopped, bending his knees and releasing his grip so she could slide off his back. When Puck's feet hit the ground, she winced. The cut on her heel had flapped open and grass poked mercilessly into her torn flesh. She shifted her weight to her other foot but her toes started protesting.  


“Lean against that tree there,” Brahms said gently, watching her struggle.  


Puck did so and that helped a little. She looked up into his masked face and then hastily looked away.  


“You really hate the mask, don't you?” Brahms asked, sounding sad.  


“I... well. Yeah. It reminds me of what the killer in a slasher movie would wear.” She ducked her head guiltily. “I know you did it so that I wouldn't have to see whatever you have under there, but I honestly don't think it could be worse than that mask.”  


He snorted. “You'd be wrong.”  


“Do you have a nose?”  


“What?” Brahms sounded startled.  


“Are you missing your nose?”  


“No!”  


“Then I don't think it's that bad. No nose is kind of upsetting. I saw this Russian man on TV who had been mauled by a bear and left for dead. His whole face had to be reconstructed and he'd lost his nose.”  


“Well, I've got mine.”  


“Good.”  


They stood there a moment and then Brahms removed his mask. She couldn't make out his features in the dark, of course, but she automatically felt ten times better now that the smooth, featureless mask wasn't staring into her soul anymore.  


“Come here,” she said softly.  


Brahms shuffled a few steps closer and Puck closed the gap between them, cupping the back of his neck and pulling his face to hers. She pressed her mouth to his softly and flicked her tongue lightly against his bottom lip until he opened to her. Her tongue swirled into his mouth as she kissed him hungrily, wanting to show him that she desired him, that she wasn't afraid.  


“You're so sweet to me,” she said when she pulled back for air. “I'm not used to that.”  


“Is that wrong?” he asked, his voice low and sexy and making her heart flutter.  


“Uh uh,” she breathed and then leaned in again.  


She had no idea how long they stood there, making out in the moonlit forest but it was long enough for the little flutter to turn into a solid, thumping desire for Brahms Heelshire to keep kissing her until the sun rose. Her fingers had twined in his curls and she arched against him, one of his hands cupping her ass and holding her to him tightly. Then she shifted her weight and the grass gouged her open wound, making her hiss in pain.  


Brahms sighed but coasted his hand up from her ass to her back and rubbed a gentle circle between her shoulder blades. “Let's get you back inside and clean out that cut.”  


“Okay,” Puck said regretfully. She hopped onto his back without having to be goaded into it and they trekked back to the house in silence. She wasn't used to liking a silence; it was never quiet back at home and then she was so used to London and all its sounds, not to mention the noises that hundreds of girls in a dormitory made while living together. Now that she knew what a calm, comfortable silence felt like, she wondered if it was going to be a harsh shock to go back to her own world.  


When they made it back to the house, Brahms went in the basement window first and then indicated that she slide through the window and let him catch her so her feet wouldn't touch the ground. He carried her piggy back all the way back to her room and then took her into the bathroom where he cleaned and dressed her cut heel.  


“I'm like one of the twelve dancing princesses,” Puck said jokingly. “Every morning I wake up with some new wound on my feet.”  


“I'm a dark prince luring you into the underworld, am I?” Brahms asked. He was wearing the mask but she could practically hear the quirk of an eyebrow in his tone.  


Puck smoothed a hand over his hair. “Nah, I already got lured here. You're the smart guy who doesn't drink the wine and follows me, trying to figure out how to save us.”  


“Do we need to be saved?”  


“Maybe.”  


Brahms didn't seem to know what to say to that so he simply stood and took her hand. They went back into her bedroom and Puck gratefully climbed under the covers. It was nearly two in the morning and she was ready to conk out. She realized Brahms wasn't with her and sat up.  


“Hey,” she whispered. “Are you staying with me tonight?”  


“Do you want--”  


“Look. I'll let you know the second I don't want you here. I came looking for you tonight because I missed you.” She pulled back a corner of the covers. “Now, come on.”  


He didn't need any more encouragement. Once Puck was sprawled across his chest, listening to the muffled thud of his heart, she only had to breathe in and out twice before she finally fell asleep.


	11. My Fever's Rising

Brahms woke just as dawn broke. The sun was hidden behind gray clouds so the light filtering in through the curtains was thin and weak, more like sunlight in November than June. Despite the gloomy weather, a warm light glowed in his chest. Puck had put it there. The simple joy of it was unlike anything he'd ever known before. He'd loved Emily but it had been a grateful, desperate love, one that he knew he could easily lose. He hadn't even been her best friend even though she'd been his. He loved her in the hopes that she would at least like him, that she would never sneer at him as his classmates did and join in on the taunting and bullying.  


But with Puck... he loved being with her. He loved the person she drew out of him. In the last few years, at least since he was sixteen, he could feel himself drawing away from humanity, from the person he may have been if Ben hadn't completely obliterated Emily's life and Brahms's future with one ultimatum. He got older and was no longer the little boy his parents had doted on so they were losing interest in him. It was so easy to just slide into being a feral thing in the walls, someone who licked plates clean, who wanked in bed and didn't bother to clean it up, who wore the same clothes day in and day out until his trousers could walk around on their own given the chance. Every moment with Puck was a moment where he could be Brahms and not his parents' shame hidden away from the world.  


He was halfway in love with Puck already. There was no way she felt the same, she couldn't possibly, but it didn't feel unattainable. Puck's love wasn't a “never” but a “maybe someday.”  


She stirred on his chest and said, “You're thinking too loud.”  


He laughed softly. “Awake so soon?”  


“Yeah. When you're thinking too much, your heart beats faster.” She lifted off his chest and rolled away from him, careful to keep her face averted from his. “Calm down so I can get my favorite pillow back.”  


Brahms made the decision that instant. “Puck? Look at me.”  


She was snuggling against a pillow but fell still when his words sank in. “Really?”  


“Really. Look at me.”  


“You're sure? Like really--”  


“Puck. Come on.”  


After almost a full minute, she whispered, “Okay” and rolled over.

~*~

She noticed his eyes first, which was weird since she didn't usually notice people's eyes. Brahms's was a lovely shade of green that she felt envious of almost right away. He had thick, dark eyebrows, a few shades darker than his beard. Scattered all over his face were little freckles that wouldn't be noticeable at a distance but were adorably present when she was up close like this. Then her gaze landed on the side of his face which had the most significant scarring. It was pretty bad, mostly because it hadn't healed well. She didn't imagine that when his parents had hidden him away, they'd had a doctor to treat his injuries.  


Puck scooted closer to him and reached out for his face to lightly touch his scars. Her heart hurt for him when he flinched but he relaxed when she stroked his face, peering at him intently.  


“I'll bet my dad could fix some of this,” she mused.  


Brahms stared at her in confusion.  


“He's a plastic surgeon,” she explained. “I mean, he couldn't make this side of your face look like the other but he could clean it up a bit. I've seen way worse in my dad's medical books.”  


“It doesn't bother you?” Brahms looked like he didn't know what to think, like he hadn't planned on her response being calm and reasonable.  


“Nope. Sorry. I'm the child of two doctors. It takes something more extreme to upset me. Like a face without a nose, like I already told you.” She smiled at him and moved her hand from his face to his hair. “You had me wondering, though. And all this time you've been a way hotter version of Ben.”  


Brahms sputtered out a laugh and then grabbed a pillow to muffle his chuckling.  


“You are!” she exclaimed and climbed on top of him, pulling the pillow away from his face. “Oh my god, your eyes are way prettier, your nose is way better, and your freckles are amaze--” He cut her off by pulling her down to kiss her.  


Even with morning breath, Brahms was a good kisser. She felt herself getting wet, heat and want pulsing between her legs. She drew back from the kiss and sat up straight. Brahms lay under her, one arm over his head and the other draped around her waist.  


“Well, that's one mystery solved,” she said, biting her lip. She reached for the hem of her tank top and teased it with the tips of her fingers. Brahms watched her intently. “I believe you had something you wanted to know as well. What do my nipples look like?”  


He swallowed and she felt his cock go hard under her, nudging her through his clothes, the bedding, and her own thin sleep shorts. She didn't keep him in suspense much longer and whipped the tank top up and off, tossing it across the room.  


No one had ever seen her naked in the light before. Part of her wanted to cross her arms over her chest and her arms actually twitched to do so but what held her back was the awestruck look on Brahms's face. For a moment, all he did was stare, jaw slightly slack. Then he reached out a finger and lightly touched her left nipple, gasping when it budded up into a hard point.  


“Light brown,” he murmured. He cupped just under her tit, weighting it in his hand. He looked up into her eyes and asked, “Can I?”  


“Yeah,” she said, having no idea what he was asking for.  


He rose up on his elbows and nuzzled at her nipple with a slightly open mouth. The gentle touch and the soft sweep of his tongue made her whimper and grip his hips with her thighs. Then his tongue darted out to flick lightly and Puck whimpered again, humping his lap. By the time he opened his mouth to draw her in, to start sucking her nipple in earnest, she was moaning and shaking, cupping his head to her chest.  


His hands stayed on the bed and she thought she'd go absolutely insane if he didn't make her come soon. She drew back, his mouth making a loud suctioning sound when her breast popped free and then she was frantically dropping beside him and peeling her shorts off. She kicked them across the room and pulled him so he was on top of her.  


“I need you to fuck me,” she said, almost growling. She'd never said such a thing in her life but then she'd never _felt_ such a thing, either. Neither of her other partners had made her this eager, this desperate.  


Brahms's eyes were huge. “I- I don't know how to--”  


“You know more than you realize,” Puck said. “You picked up kissing in like, two minutes. Most guys don't figure that out in a lifetime.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and asked softly, “Do you want to?”  


He looked into her eyes and nodded slowly.  


Puck smiled and traced a finger down his neck until it hooked into his collar. “Then we'll start with step one. Take off your clothes.”

~*~

Brahms didn't want to leave Puck's arms but it wasn't as if he could snap his fingers and his clothes would just fall off. Pity that wasn't how it worked. So he rose, breaking her embrace regretfully and stood to the side of the bed to remove his clothes. He felt self conscious as Puck sat up to watch him with frank curiosity. It was only fair that she watch him, though. He'd gawped at her plenty since she'd gotten naked herself. Now, as he unbuttoned his shirt, he stared at the neatly trimmed triangle of dark hair between her legs. She'd felt smooth where he'd licked her the other night so she kept that part of her bare.  


“Are you staring at my bush?” Puck asked, sounding amused.  


“Bush?” Brahms asked as he got his button down shirt off and started tugging his singlet up from where it was tucked into his trousers.  


“Well, it's not a real bush,” she said, stroking the hair between her legs with a thoughtful expression on her face. “But some guys call any amount of hair a bush. I'd shave if I could but I get really bad ingrown hairs.”  


He tended to get those on his neck so he winced in sympathy. He couldn't imagine having an ingrown hair in an already sensitive area; it would drive him mad. “I don't mind. I like your hair.”  


Puck smiled at him, looking amused. “Really?”  


“It's very geometrical. The perfect isosceles triangle.”  


Her eyes bulged and then she fell over backwards laughing. He didn't really see how what he said was so funny but her laughter made him laugh as well. While she was distracted he got the rest of his clothes off and then joined her on the bed, crawling back on top of her.  


“Nooo, wait.” Puck pressed a hand to his chest and pushed. “I missed it. I want to see naked Brahms.”  


He sat back on his knees and spread his arms. “I present you, naked Brahms.”  


She giggled again but it was sweeter sounding this time, her eyes soft as she drank him in. He started to feel almost handsome as she gazed on him with such admiration. She traced a finger down the line of hair below his bellybutton and he hissed, closing his eyes at the sensation. To his disappointment she stopped. When his eyes flew open, he was distressed to see her looking worried.  


“What is it?” he asked, his voice tight.  


“You've never done this before,” Puck said slowly, “Right?”  


He nodded and felt his face heat, wondering if she was about to tell him to get the hell out, that he couldn't possibly please her sexually with his awkward fumbling.  


Her voice was soft as she said, “I've never been anyone's first before.”  


“So you're nervous, too?” Brahms asked, and when she nodded, he realized he was smiling widely at her in relief. “Then we're on the same page. It's my first time doing this at all and it's your first time doing this with _me_. Every set of new lovers have to learn each other, right? It stands to reason. I promise not to expect you to be a sex expert if--”  


“A sexpert,” Puck interrupted.  


Brahms laughed. “Fair enough. I won't expect you to be a sexpert if you don't expect me to be a mindblowingly amazing lover.”  


She looked doubtful. “You've been really good at everything so far. You're good at picking up on what I like and don't like.”  


“Well, you're very responsive,” Brahms said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.  


“So I guess we should keep communicating, then?” Puck said, raising her eyebrows.  


Brahms nodded at her. “That seems to be what makes us successful.”  


“Cool.” Puck opened her thighs wide and said, “Enough talk. Come here.”  


He didn't need to be told twice. Brahms lowered himself into her arms and they continued to kiss. The tip of his erection dragged along her hip and it felt so deliciously frustrating, the feel of his sensitive head on her smooth soft skin. Then she was gripping him firmly yet gently in her hand and guiding him to her entrance. She brushed the head against her velvety wet hot heat and Brahms's vision went red and he arched his back almost painfully, on the razor's edge of an orgasm. He threw his head back and grit his teeth, fighting not to come and stop this before they even got started.  


“Relax, don't do it, when you want to go to it,” Puck sang softly. “Relax, don't do it, when you wanna come.”  


Brahms's eyes opened and he stared down at her pretty face with her mussed black hair spread all over the white pillow case. The sight would have ended him if not for the bizarre song she was singing.  


“Sing it with me,” she instructed, “Relax..”  


“Don't do it,” he sang uncertainly and she smiled to reassure him.  


“When you want to go to it,” they sang together. “Relax, don't do it, when you wanna come.”  


They sang it twice more and Brahms nodded at Puck, signaling to her that he had followed the song's advice. She nodded back and drew in a little more of him. The heat and wet grew in intensity until just the tip of his cock was inside of her. His balls tightened and he thought _Relax_ to himself until his trembling subsided. Then he sank in a couple more inches.  


Puck made a soft sound of discomfort and Brahms stopped staring blankly at the sheets and looked at her face. She was biting her lip and seemed to be fighting a wince.  
“What's wrong?” he asked softly.  


“Um.” She hesitated.  


“Hey, we said we'd keep communicating,” he said, gently chiding her.  


She exhaled slowly through her mouth and then said in a rush, “I'm sorry, you're just really thick and it's more than I'm used to but I promise that I'll like it I just need to get used to it, I'm not trying to discourage you, maybe I should have done some yoga this week and then maybe I'd be more ready for this but how could I be ready for someone as thick as you are, I'd never even seen your dick before so I didn't know what I was in for--”  


“Shhhh.” He lowered his head and kissed her. “Shhhh.”  


“Okay,” she said shakily, looping her arms around his neck and opening her mouth for his tongue to lick inside. The kiss got downright dirty, Brahms slowly thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth, simulating what his cock wanted to do to her pussy. “Okay.” She sounded dreamy now and Brahms took advantage of the distraction to sink the rest of the way inside of her. “Ohhhh” she cooed, lips pressed to his bottom lip.  


His gut clenched and he wanted to thrust into her hard but he had a feeling he wasn't going to last long, no amount of weird singing was going to stop him from falling over the edge. Puck needed her pleasure first. While still sheathed within her, he started to rub that firm little nub of flesh between her legs.  


Puck rolled her head on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. “Ohhhhhh god.”  


He rubbed and circled until he felt her muscles start to flutter around his cock, felt her tunnel start to get narrower. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him in place. The motion had to have been instinctive; she should have known that Brahms wasn't going to withdraw, not when she was so close. He lowered his head and sucked on her erect little nipple. When his bottom teeth accidentally grazed the sensitive tip, she let out a breathless cry full of longing and then her pussy clamped hard around him, pulsing and squeezing, her hips bucking with the sensation.  


Brahms chose that moment to start thrusting hard and fast, his heart pounding wildly as Puck came for him. She sank her fingers, claw like, into his hair and pulled his head down to hers for more open mouthed kissing, whimpering into his mouth as she continued to come. His thrusts were without rhythm, just frantic rutting at this point and when she seemed to be reaching the end of her climax, he achieved his own, growling into her open, gasping mouth.  


Weak and spent, Brahms sagged down on top of her and hummed in approval when Puck wrapped her arms around him, cradling him to her. Her legs still circled his waist as she stroked his sweaty back, murmuring something he couldn't quite make out. He dozed off like that, still inside of her with all her limbs twined about him. His heartbeat slowed as he drifted to sleep, fully happy for the first time in far too long.

~*~

Since it was Sunday, Puck wasn't going to spend the whole day working on doll Brahms's new wardrobe, but she decided to at least put in a few hours. It was a handy excuse to avoid Ben. The day was rainy and he'd been saying something about starting another game of checkers but Puck had begged off, claiming that she needed to get more work done. She was halfway through the planned wardrobe but Mrs. Heelshire had been saying something this morning about winter clothes so Puck figured she'd be sketching more designs soon.  


To her surprise, she didn't really resent the task anymore. It was sort of fun, to be honest. She could just sew and drift away on her thoughts. Mr. Heelshire had found an old radio for her and she had some music playing as she sewed and mentally revisited her morning with Brahms.  


After they'd woken the second time, they had shared a shower and Brahms had taken her from behind, her hands pressed to the wet, slippery tile. The whole time her heart had thudded in fear that they'd slip and fall but Brahms had kept them upright, whispering hotly in her ear that she was so fucking beautiful and her pussy felt like heaven.  


When they'd finished, they'd dried off and Puck had trimmed down Brahms's hair and beard. She'd almost felt shy at how handsome he'd looked, avoiding his direct gaze until he'd gently taken hold of her chin and tipped her face to his.  


“I'm still me,” he'd murmured.  


“I like you,” she'd said foolishly.  


He'd given her a sweet, boyish smile and said, “I like you, too.”  


Puck set down the brown jacket she was hemming and rubbed at the goofy smile on her face from just thinking of Brahms. She hadn't been this dreamy over a guy since middle school, when the first boy she'd liked had spent a week flirting with her and giving her hopes that he'd ask her to the school dance. It had turned out that his friends had dared him to act that way so and she'd been so humiliated that she'd begged her mother to home school her. That memory usually gave her a painful twinge in her chest and brought a few tears to her eyes but instead she thought, _stupid chump_.  


The joke had been on all of them when she'd come to school her junior year and she'd been hot. Over the summer, she'd had her braces removed, her skin had cleared up a little, and she'd actually developed somewhat. Her mom had taken her to a makeup counter at Macy's where she'd learned how to apply makeup and they'd ordered nearly every item in the Delia's catalog so she'd looked cute and fashionable walking in the door on that first day of school.  


And all those stupid boys had acted as if the last five years hadn't happened and had flocked to her as if they had a right to. Of all the choices now available to her, she'd picked the cutest guy on the basketball team, a guy she knew the entire male population of the school envied. She hadn't picked him because she'd liked him, only because she knew it would make everyone the most resentful.  


Puck pushed all these thoughts aside. None of it mattered; she wasn't in high school anymore. She was nineteen and she'd met someone she could spend hours daydreaming about and who took away Tyler Randell's power to make her cry over his casual cruelty all those years ago.  


The DJ on the radio stopped blathering about a contest and a familiar song started. Puck hadn't heard it in a few years and smiled, turning the volume up a few notches. She'd always thought the song was kind of sappy but right now she was in the right mood for it.  


_Go on, go on, leave me breathless_  
_The daylight's fading slowly but time with you is standing still_  
_I'm waiting for you only the slightest touch and I feel weak_  
_I cannot lie, from you I cannot hide_  
_And I'm losing the will to try_  
_Can't hide it, can't fight it_  
_So go on, go on, come on leave me breathless_  
_Tempt me, tease me, till I can't deny this loving feeling_  
_Make me long for your kiss_  
_Go on, go on, yeah, come on_  


Puck was joyfully singing along now, getting into it and tossing her hair as she worked, trying to act sexy or at least as sexy as she could while sewing doll clothes for a somber little boy doll who still smelled faintly of attic.  


Someone lightly touched her shoulder and Puck gasped, spinning in her chair. Brahms stood there with his new haircut and his sleeves rolled up to expose the thick veins in his forearms, his curls tumbling over his forehead as he opened his mouth to apologize for startling her. She felt such a surge of longing that she dropped the doll's jacket and her needle to the table and practically leaped on him, her mouth seeking his and kissing him urgently.  


_And if there's no tomorrow and all we have is here and now_  
_I'm happy just to have you_  
_You're all the love I need somehow_  
_It's like a dream although I'm not asleep_  
_And I never want to wake up_  
_Don't lose it, don't leave it_  


She backed him up to the bed and they fell across it, her hands going under his shirt to stroke all the lovely thick chest hair he had. She still felt physically satisfied from the morning but it felt so good to just enjoy him and explore without lust distracting her from how... _lovely_ he was. It felt like an absurd word to use, she'd never even thought the word in her head before much less spoke it out loud, but it was the best descriptor for Brahms. He was lovely, made even lovelier by appearing in such an unexpected place, like a flower blooming in a junkyard.  


_So go on, go on, come on leave me breathless_  
_Tempt me, tease me, till I can't deny this loving feeling_  
_Make me long for your kiss_  
_Go on, go on, yeah, come on_  


“My hands fit around your waist perfectly,” Brahms said when she drew back for air. His big, warm hands spanned her waist and his fingers almost met but not quite. They felt good where they lay, though, filling her with warm, lazy satisfaction.  


She giggled. “Yeah, they do.” She lowered her head to his once more, her tongue meeting his in almost coy little touches that he met more boldly, like he was the experienced one trying to encourage her and not the other way around.  


_And I can't lie, from you I cannot hide_  
_And I've lost my will to try_  
_Can't hide it, can't fight it_  
_So go on, go on, come on, leave me breathless_  
_Tempt me, tease me until I can't deny this loving feeling_  


Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Puck bolted to her feet and Brahms soundlessly dropped to the floor and rolled underneath the bed in almost one fluid motion, like a cat. She sat down at the table and picked up her work  


“Yes?” she called, hoping the strain in her voice made her sound as if she was irritated with having her work interrupted.  


Ben opened the door and leaned in, looking theatrically puzzled, his brow wrinkled in an exaggerated fashion that immediately increased Puck's annoyance by a thousand. “Do you really mean to work the entire day away?”  


“I was only going to work until about three,” she said, trying not to sound defensive but knowing she did.  


“It's ten past,” he said like he was talking to a wayward child.  


_And_? she wanted to snap but instead she said, “Oh.”  


“Come on. All work and no play makes Puck a dull girl. The rain's cleared up a bit, why don't we go for a walk?”  


A walk sounded nice. Too bad the company sucked. Puck switched off the radio and took her time putting her things away and neatening the work table. Ben stood in the doorway, watching her. She hoped that he'd leave so she could sneak a few more kisses from Brahms but no such luck.  


“Oh, I wanted to tell you,” Ben said casually. “I was trying to make a call earlier from the extension in my room and couldn't. I think the rats have been nibbling at the phone lines.”  


“Ugh!” Puck shuddered at the idea.  


“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “So I took the phone out of your room for the time being. If you need to make a call, the phones downstairs still work. For now. I've called for a repairman but he didn't seem in a hurry to come out. We're quite a ways away, see.”  


Puck nodded slowly. “Okay.” Why did he need to take her phone away, though? And he'd been in her room? Puck was suddenly very grateful that she'd changed her soiled bed linens and opened the window after her shower with Brahms. Otherwise, Ben would have realized that she hadn't spent the night alone.  


“The rats are getting more restless,” Ben said. “They were really loud last night. Did you hear them?”  


“I was asleep,” Puck said, her heart pounding. What did he know? What was he implying? Was he implying anything? Had he been listening at her door again, had he heard Brahms?  


Ben shrugged. “Ah, well. It was quite late when I heard them. I think they're nocturnal creatures for the most part. Anyway! Let's go for that walk, hm? There's nothing better than the smell of the earth after rain.”  


Puck reluctantly followed him out of the room and shut out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Puck sings for Brahms is "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. And yes, I was kind of inspired by the scene from "The Sweetest Thing.
> 
> And the other song here is "Breathless" by The Corrs. I feel like at this point I need to remind everyone that the year is 2003. At least, that's what I've had to keep reminding myself when I want to put more recent songs into the story. Ugh!


	12. I'm Not Asking You to Make Up Your Mind

“It's not fair,” Puck suddenly exclaimed, slamming her pencil down.  


Brahms was laying beside her, dozing after their last sexual encounter in which they had discovered that Puck could come just from penetration but he needed to thrust steady, slow, and deep, nearly pulling out entirely. It had been exhausting but worth it when she'd come so hard she'd blacked out temporarily. It had frightened him at the time but she'd stirred after he'd shaken her shoulder and called her name a few times. She'd looked up at him with her dreamy gray eyes and had said, “I'm gonna marry you.”  


Now, he rose up on an elbow and frowned at her drowsily. “What's wrong?”  


“This stupid asshole I'm making clothes for!” Puck said, pointing an accusing finger at her sketch. It was of a little boy in a winter coat lined with fur trim.  


“What's he done?” Brahms asked, kissing her shoulder in a way he hoped she found comforting.  


Puck sighed and dropped her cheek to the top of his head. “Nothing. I'm just mad.”  


“It's a nice design,” Brahms told her honestly. “It looks a lot like something I wore when I was about six years old.”  


“I know there's nothing wrong with the design,” she said more quietly now. “My problem is... okay, look.” She set her sketchpad and pencil aside and rose from the bed. He admired her long, tanned limbs, her flat tummy, her lovely breasts that now had a love bite blooming rosy red above her right nipple.  


Puck knelt and scooped his discarded shirt from the floor and brought it back to him. She spread the fabric between her hands and held it up to the lamp on the bedside table. Unmistakably, light shone through the thin fabric.  


“See?” she said, her voice starting to tremble. “Your clothes are all like this. And your mother has me making a whole new wardrobe for a god damned doll while her real son wastes away in the walls wearing this garbage.”  


His heart twisted in his chest. “Love...” he started to say, not knowing what he _could_ say. She was on the verge of tears out of concern for him, indignant at his lot in life, the injustice of it. No one had ever cared about him like that before.  


She sniffled and he exhaled sharply, seeing the first tears begin to spill down her cheeks. “You deserve so much better than this.”  


“Puck,” he whispered fondly, pulling the shirt out of her hands. He balled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. “It's all right, darling. Don't cry.”  


“It's not all right,” she insisted, wiping her tears away with her forearm in a sharp, impatient gesture. “You've somehow convinced yourself that it is but it _isn't_.”  


“Well, what's the alternative then?” Brahms asked tiredly.  


She was quiet a moment and then said softly, “Run away with me.”  


He couldn't have heard that correctly. He squinted up at her and said, “Come again?”  


Her face glowed now in the lamplight, eyes shining. The tears still slid down her cheeks but she'd finished crying, really, judging by the the beatific smile on her face as she climbed on the bed beside him. She reached out a hand for his and clasped it tightly.  


“Run away with me,” she said again. Before he could say anything she rushed on excitedly, “Malcolm's taking me home on Sunday. He'll come to the house and pick me up. You sneak out and meet us at the gate. You'll probably scare the shit out of Malcolm, but he'll keep your secret, I know he will. We'll go to my dad's place in London. From there, I don't know what we'll do, but my brothers are coming to visit in August and between the seven of us, I'm sure we'll think of something. What do you think?”  


What did he think? It sounded absolutely mental. He'd never left this part of England before ever in his life. He hadn't left the house at all until last night and even then, he hadn't left his property. It had been over ten years, twelve to be exact, since he'd even been to the village. Now she expected him to just go out into the world and live as if he were like everyone else, as if he had no fears and no evil hanging over his head?  


The joy in her face gradually faded the longer he said nothing. There was no more light, the shine had left her eyes. “It was just an idea,” she whispered with a little shrug, trying to play it off as not being a big deal.  


“Puck,” Brahms said gently. “Darling...”  


She turned from him and put her drawing supplies away in the bedside drawer. She switched off the lamp and got into bed, fussily arranging the blankets around herself so she wouldn't have to acknowledge him.  


“It means a lot to me that you'd want to take me with you,” he said. “I'm touched and... and humbled that you'd feel that way for me.”  


“Forget it,” she muttered, turning her back to him.  


“Wait,” he insisted, touching her shoulder. “You have to understand something.”  


“What?” she asked, sounding frustrated.  


“This is where I belong,” he said gently. “This house, this place, with these people. I've killed someone, Puck. I may not have wanted to but I still did it. Killers don't get to enjoy their lives, they don't get to run away with beautiful women and live a whole new life somewhere exciting. I don't deserve that. I don't deserve you.”  


Puck rolled over to face him and said earnestly, “You've suffered enough. Please just come with me, I'll take care of you.”  


“I can't,” he said, his tone heavy with regret. “I'm sorry.”  


“Then I'll stay here,” she swore.  


“No,” Brahms said immediately.  


“Are you serious?” Puck asked darkly. She suddenly climbed onto him, straddling him. She spread her hands wide on his chest and purred, “Do you really want me to do this with another man?” She lowered her head and nuzzled his chest, leaving a soft kiss on his nipple. “To touch someone else like this?” Her hand slid under the sheets to his stirring erection and started to stroke. “Do you want me to call out someone else's name? To beg another man to fuck me until I cry? For me to come on someone else's tongue? To want someone else so much that every thought I have is about him and never, ever not even once about you?”  


Snarling, Brahms threw her off of him and rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists in place. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “It's me. I'm the only one. Ever. Not anyone else.”  


She shrugged, turning her face away. “Well, that's what'll happen if you don't come with me, Brahms. I'll miss you but not for always. I'm young. I'll move on and fall in love with someone who isn't afraid to be with me, who'll fuck me with all the lights on and the doors open, and he'll promise me forever and kiss me out in the rain and--”  


“No,” Brahms said, even more fiercely. He kissed her roughly with brutal intensity, tightening his hold on her wrists. “You're mine.”  


She bit his lip, hard, and he pulled back in surprise. “No, I'm not,” she spat back at him. “I'm the girl you'll experiment with and then send me away broken hearted. At least until I meet the man who picks up the shards and makes them whole again and I'll love him so much for doing that, I'll never even look back.”  


“No,” he said, feeling himself beginning to cry. “No, stop it.” He released her wrists, pressed his face into her neck. “No.”  


Her arms slid around him and she let out a soft, shaky breath. “Oh, Brahms honey, I'm sorry.”  


“Don't leave me,” he begged. “Don't leave me, I'll die. I know I will.”  


“Shhhhh, no, honey, don't say that.” She was kissing his face desperately now. “Don't say that. You aren't gonna die. Okay?”  


“The thought of you with someone else makes me ill,” he said, his voice breaking.  


“Me too.” He drew back in surprise to look at her and she stroked his face. “It's been on my mind all afternoon, what I'll do when I leave here. I hated every idea I had, until just now, when I realized that bringing you with me could be an option. I'd make you so happy.”  


“I know you would.” Brahms considered everything she'd said. The cruel things about moving on but also what she'd said before that unthinkably vile scenario. She had told him that he'd suffered enough. How long was he expected to be punished? He'd been badly burned in a house fire and lived like a rat inside the walls while his parents seemed to forget that he was there more and more with each passing year. Maybe there really could be a life after all of this. “Can I think about it?”  


“Of course you can,” Puck said immediately. “I'm sorry that I... That wasn't fair what I did.”  


“No, it wasn't,” he agreed.  


“I just want to keep you so much, I'm willing to fight dirty for it.” Her voice trembled with another onslaught of tears.  


“Shhh, come here.” He tugged her into his arms and stroked and kissed her hair until her tears stopped and she drifted into sleep.  


Brahms lay awake and imagined what a life with Puck could be like, cautiously daring to hope.

~*~

“It's supposed to be sweltering today,” Mr. Heelshire said at the breakfast table.  


Mrs. Heelshire made a sound of distress. “Really? I was hoping for more rain.”  


“He's right,” Ben said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, not looking up from his plate. “It's supposed to be record breakingly hot.”  


“Oh my,” Mrs. Heelshire said softly. “We had a few fans but I think they've broken down with disuse over the years.”  


Ben sat up and said, “I could go out and see if I can buy some.”  


“Oh, if you could,” Mrs. Heelshire said with a relieved smile.  


“I'm sure other people have the same idea,” Mr. Heelshire said, eyeing Ben. “Shops may be sold out already.”  


“I'll leave no stone unturned,” Ben said with no concern. He looked over at Puck and quirked his lips into a wide smile. “Would you like to come with me? Nice drive with the air conditioning cranked up, maybe get out of the house for awhile?”  


That sounded great, if she was the one driving and Brahms was in the passenger seat. She smiled at Ben sweetly and said, “I think I'll stay here. I wanted to make some fresh-squeezed lemonade. It's perfect for a hot day like this.”  


“That sounds lovely!” Mrs. Heelshire smiled at Puck and then stood. “Let me get a little something for you, Benjamin dear. I really appreciate you offering to do this. I'm sure it'll be perfectly awful in all those shops...”  


Ben stared at Puck for a long moment and then turned and followed his aunt out of the room. Puck exhaled and caught Mr. Heelshire looking at her as well.  


“That was a wise decision,” Mr. Heelshire murmured and then stood and left the room, too.

~*~

True to her word, Puck made lemonade and presented it to the bemused Heelshires. Puck remembered that most Britons called “Sprite” lemonade so when presented with the juice from a lemon they were more than a little taken aback. After a few sips, they were surprised to find that they liked it and the three of them sat in the shade outside with their drinks until it grew too hot for the older people.  


“I think I may just go lay down,” Mrs. Heelshire said.  


Her husband grasped her hand and said quietly, “I'll join you, my love.”  


Puck watched them walk away and almost liked them, if it wasn't for their son. She thought of him now and got an idea. When she was sure the Heelshires were in their room, she went upstairs and changed into a bikini. She grabbed a tote bag and put in three rolled towels, sunblock, her book of fairy tales, and the radio. Then she stepped into her closet and pushed at the hidden latch that opened the secret door.  


She found Brahms scribbling away at something while slouched on his bed but he looked up and then sat up straight, dropping his pencil, when he saw how Puck was dressed.  


Casually, she tossed her head. “I'm going to the pond. Wanna come with me?”  


“My family--”  


“Ben's gone for the day and your parents are sleeping. I think we probably have a couple hours until he gets back and they wake up. What do you think?”  


“I...” He didn't seem to like the idea but he hadn't taken his eyes off of her tits since she'd entered the room. “Yes. All right.”  


Puck beamed at him. “Great! Let's take your route.”  


They went through the secret passages down to the basement window. Brahms boosted Puck outside and followed her. They rushed across the lawn, hoping that neither of his parents decided to get up and look out one of the windows facing this part of the grounds. They relaxed once they were in the trees and Brahms impulsively pulled her to him and twirled her around, making her giggle.  


Brahms led them right to the pond which was bigger than Puck had been expecting. She dropped her bag and pulled out the towel, spreading it on the ground. “Take off your clothes,” she ordered Brahms.  


He blushed but stripped like she asked and Puck pulled the sunblock out of the bag next. “You're going to need a shit ton of this. You're so pale, I don't want you burning.” It took time to cover every inch of him, his eyes warm as he smiled at her.  


“Don't you need some?” Brahms asked innocently when she'd finished.  


“Yes.” Her smile was wicked as she handed him the bottle. “Be sure to get everything.”  


“Everything?”  


“Everything you see.”  


He grinned wolfishly and then squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen into his hands. To his credit, he started sensibly, making sure her back and shoulders were covered before moving on to her arms and legs, the exposed parts of her breasts, and her tummy. He made a point of tickling her there, making her kick and shriek laughter.  


“Noooo, don't be meeeean!” Puck laughed, twisting away from him.  


“I'm not meeeean!” Brahms teased and then said, “Okay, I'll stop, come back here so I can finish.”  


Puck giggled but looked at him suspiciously as she sat up and scooted closer to him. He didn't tickle her again, though. Her heart ached as he lightly gripped her chin and tenderly rubbed the lotion into her face, making sure her nose got plenty of coverage. When he finished, he capped the bottle and then they continued to stare into each other's eyes, neither of them making a move, content to just look for the time being.  


With a shiver, Puck broke the spell and whispered, “Want to start swimming now?”  


He nodded and they hopped into the water. The pond went up to Puck's neck so it was fairly deep but not overwhelmingly so. On vacation with her family to Ocean Shores one year, Puck had nearly gotten pulled out to sea by a particularly strong tide. Tony had been with her and pulled her to safety. Ever since, she had a healthy fear of deep water.  


They splashed around for awhile and took turns dunking each other. Brahms even spit a mouthful of water into her face after he'd surfaced from his own dunking, making her cry out in disgust and splash more water at him.  


“Ew!”  


“What? It's only water!”  


“Yeah, _pond_ water! It's full of germs and nastiness!”  


Brahms stared at her like she was insane. “You know that you've gotten this in your own mouth, right? Not to mention your nose and eyes and your...” He dipped his gaze downward with a quirk of an eyebrow.  


“Ew,” she said again. “I'm not doing that deliberately, though!”  


“Aren't you? You got in the water willingly, didn't you?”  


She huffed and turned. “Fine, I'm getting out.”  


“Puck, come on, I was only teasing.”  


She didn't answer and climbed out of the pond. She sat down on the towel she'd spread and got another one out of her bag to begin drying her hair. Brahms stayed in the water, watching her but she ignored him. She took her radio out of her tote bag and clicked it on to the 80s Flashback station and set it aside. She could feel Brahms staring at her but didn't want to give in and look. But when she heard splashing, she couldn't resist and glanced over to see what he was doing.  


Brahms was standing at full height, head tipped up to the sun and pushing his hair back from his face where it curled nicely behind his ears. He lowered his head and opened his eyes, looking over at her. As he did so, one of his curls tumbled down over his forehead and covered one eye.  


Ugh. He knew how much she liked his hair.  


Puck huffed again and then came back to the edge of the pond. “It's not fair for you to act all sexy.”  


“Me? What was I doing?” he asked, the picture of innocence.  


“Oh, don't give me that.” Puck planted her hands on her hips but she was already laughing. “Acting like a sexy Greek god and then playing dumb when I call you out for it.”  


“You think I'm sexy?” he asked, grinning.  


“You know I do!” Puck jumped into the water and swam to him, climbing up into his arms and looping her legs around his waist. “A sexy man with a sexy smile and sexy hair and sexy eyes and a sexy chest and--”  


Brahms was chuckling and nuzzled her cheek. “Thanks, darling.”  


She cuddled closer and whispered in his ear, “I like when you call me that.”  


“Do you? It seems a bit old fashioned but it comes out naturally.”  


“It sounds like a name for someone more girly and sweet than me. When you call me darling, it makes me think that... I don't know. That I'm feminine enough for you.” Puck was still whispering in his ear, hiding her face as she confessed her insecurity to him.  


His arms closed around her protectively. “You could be less feminine and you'd still be my darling. You don't have to be anything for me except who you are.”  


Tears stung her eyes and she kissed his earlobe. “I wish I'd met you at school and not Ben.”  


“I don't. I'm glad I met you here.” He tucked his chin over her shoulder, whispering now, too. “Out in the world I have more competition for your affections. Here, it's only my father and Ben and Malcolm. I win by being the most mysterious and interesting, right?”  


Puck frowned and drew back to look into his slightly red face. “Hey. What do you mean by that?”  


“Mysterious man hidden away from the world. You're the girl who saves me from my loneliness. Bit romantic, isn't it? Much more impressive than being the boy who sits behind you in your literature class.”  


“Brahms,” she said slowly, “Do you think I'm going to lose interest in you if we leave here?” When he didn't answer she sucked in a breath and said, “Oh, honey. No.”  


He wasn't looking at her now, staring down at the pond's surface. “What makes you so sure?”  


“Because...” She swallowed and the answer hit her, blindsided her like a bus. The feeling that had been growing within her since their game of Truth or Dare in the dark. She cupped his cheek in one hand, forcing him to look at her. “Because I love you.” From the look in his eyes, she could tell that he doubted her. “You don't believe me.”  


“I don't see how you could love me,” he said flatly. “I'm not the Greek God you think—”  


“Oh, shut up,” Puck said affectionately. She tilted her head to the side. “You bite your toe nails and you whistle through your teeth when you sleep. You make a weird grunting sound under your breath when you're concentrating on something and you don't like ABBA and haven't seen any of the Godzilla movies and you do this gross throat clearing thing in the shower and you always get food in your teeth and not notice it for _way_ too long until I point it out to you. And I love you anyway, Brahms. I don't just love the good parts of you. I love _all_ of you.”  


His gaze thawed and he started to smile. “Do I really whistle through my teeth when I sleep?”  


“Ugh, yes, and I hate it.” Puck pouted. “I have to nudge you until you stop.”  


He laughed. “You should know what _you_ do in your sleep.”  


“What do I do?” she asked, horrified.  


Looking away, Brahms admitted, “Nothing. You're perfect.”  


Giggling, Puck hugged him tightly. “My mom says that I talk in my sleep, if that makes you feel better. She's heard me yelling in my room and when she goes to check on me, I'm sound asleep.”  


“I haven't heard you do that,” Brahms said.  


“Well, it's been a few years,” Puck said. “I did it mostly when my parents were first splitting up.”  


Brahms walked them to the edge of the pond and he sat her down in the grass. “I'm sorry, love.”  


“It's okay.” She smiled for him and he kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead, her upturned lips, between her breasts, her tummy... “Mmm!” She arched her back when he started working her bikini bottoms off. He sling shot-ed them over her shoulder where they landed in a sodden heap on the ground somewhere. Then he knelt and started to kiss her between her legs.  


“Oh,” she breathed as one of his hands came up to cup her breast. She fumbled with the strings of her top and got it off so she could feel his bare hand on her flesh. He squeezed and she hummed, running her fingers through his damp curls as he parted her with his tongue and gave her clit a soft tap that made her hips buck.  


His other hand pressed her hip down. “Careful,” he said with a breathless laugh. “You're going to dislocate my jaw one of these days.”  


“Don't mean to,” she mewled, her head rolling on the grass. “I just love you so much.”  


His eyes fiery, he suddenly surged up out of the water, propping himself on top of her. “Tell me again.”  


“So you believe me now?” she asked with a little smile.  


“Tell me,” he insisted.  


She spread her legs wide. “I love you.”  


Brahms arranged his hard cock at her entrance and said, “I love you, too” and thrust in hard.  


She let out a soft cry, digging her fingernails into his back. When he started to ask if she was all right she said urgently, “Hard and fast, please, please, don't stop.”  


Always the gentleman, Brahms thrust hard and fast just like she asked and in no time at all, they were both moaning and coming at roughly the same time. Puck shut her eyes and panted, waiting for Brahms to lay down on top of her like he usually did. Instead, he stayed on his elbows and she could feel him watching her. She allowed her eyes to flutter open, giving him a curious look.  


“I was wondering something,” he said quietly.  


“What?” she asked.  


He looked down, staring at her tummy. “Have we made a baby yet?”  


“Have we...?” Her eyes widened. “Oh. No. I'm on Depo.”  


Brahms squinted. “What?”  


“It's a shot I started taking last year. It keeps me from getting pregnant. It's good for three months and I took it just before school let out at the end of May.” She smiled comfortingly. “We should be good. No babies.”  


“No babies,” Brahms repeated. He didn't look relieved like she'd been expecting.  


“Um. Do you... want babies?” she asked uncertainly.  


Brahms looked uncomfortable and shrugged. “I don't know. Not right now I don't.”  


“Me neither,” Puck said firmly. “Maybe you can fill me up with babies once you've known me a little longer.”  


He gave her a startled look and she made a goofy face at him to let him know she was kidding. He laughed and the tension eased. She started to lean in for a kiss when they heard a twig snap.  


“Someone's coming,” Puck whispered, her eyes going wide.  


Brahms had acted at super speed, though. The branch had barely begun cracking and he quickly dipped back down into the pond, the surface barely even rippling. Puck jumped up and gasped, almost calling to Brahms but then a familiar voice spoke behind her.  


“Well. I go out of town and miss this? Silly me.”  


Puck spun around to face Ben but thought to cross her arms over her chest. She still had love bites and Ben would wonder where she'd gotten them. Unfortunately, that left her pussy exposed. She awkwardly crossed her legs but the damage was done; he'd seen everything.  


Ben was smirking at her, eyes twinkling. “You look like a naiad out here.”  


“Wasn't it a naiad who blinded a man?” Puck said pointedly.  


“Yes, sorry.” Ben made a show of looking down at his feet. “I found some fans at a shop a few towns over. I put one in your room so you can sleep tonight.”  


Great, he'd been in her room again. She racked her brains, wondering if she'd left anything incriminating laying around. She and Brahms hadn't had sex this morning and he'd left with all of his clothes after his shower. They should be safe.  


“Thanks,” she said after a pause.  


“I don't touch your things when I'm in there,” Ben said, almost as if he were reading her mind.  


Puck nodded slowly. If he felt the need to say it, then he probably had snooped through her stuff. “Okay,” she said.  


“Well, anyway,” Ben said cheerfully, making her flinch at how sudden and loud his words were. “I'll go back up to the house. The next time you want to go swimming, maybe invite me?  


“Maybe,” Puck said in a tone that meant “no.”  


Ben laughed softly. “Right, then. I'll see you later, Puck.”  


“See ya.” He turned and walked away. Puck waited until she was sure he was gone before she dropped her arms. Then she dashed after him to see if he was actually heading to the house and not doubling back to spy on her some more. A tree branch scratched her along her rib cage, making her hiss softly when all she wanted to do was swear out loud. She ran along as quietly as she could, trying to be careful of any more branches trying to snag her naked flesh. She came to a sudden halt when she caught sight of Ben's back as he passed out of the woods and headed through the gardens to the house.  


She exhaled a breath and then jolted in fear. Oh god, Brahms was still underwater! Frantically, she started running back to the pond, picturing Brahms drowning as he waited for a signal from her that it was safe to surface.  


When she made it back to the clearing and the pond, she was near tears. She was so certain that Brahms was dead that at first she didn't register him sitting on the towel, drying off while casually spinning the radio dial to find a station more to his liking.  


“Oh my god!” Puck said breathlessly.  


Brahms looked up at her. “You made sure he was gone?”  


“Yes!” She staggered to him and dropped down by his side. “Are you all right?! You were under there for so long!”  


“I'm good at holding my breath,” Brahms said, stopping on a station playing classical music. “It helps me keep quiet in the walls so I don't bother my parents. They don't like knowing that I'm close by. If I regulate my breathing then it's easy for me to be standing right behind them and they can still ignore me.”  


Puck dropped her head to his shoulder. “Honey, that's awful.”  


“I know.” He gave her a sad smile and looked her over. When he saw the scratch on her ribs he let out a cry of dismay. “What's happened to you now?”  


“Tree,” Puck said glumly. “You don't believe I'm not a klutz anymore, do you?”  


“All evidence to the contrary says you are one,” he said a little apologetically.  


She laughed despite herself. Then she sobered and said, “I have to go back to the house. I watched him leave but he could easily sneak back, especially if he thinks I'm just hanging out here naked all by myself.”  


“I'll have to wait until dark to join you,” Brahms said. He gave her a quick kiss. “I'll be waiting for you when you come up to bed.”  


“Okay.” Puck started gathering her things and left a towel with Brahms to continue drying himself. She slipped on her damp bikini, shivering and making a face at how it chafed her skin. “I love you.”  


He smiled at her and for a moment it felt like they were a normal boyfriend and girlfriend. “I love you more.”  


“I love you to infinity,” Puck countered.  


“I love you to infinity and back ten times,” Brahms replied.  


Puck started giggling. “I'm not sure that makes sense.”  


“Love seldom does.”  


“That's so true.” She gave him one more kiss and then reluctantly stood with her tote bag. “Bye.”  


“Goodbye, darling.”  


Puck walked back to the house, hating to leave Brahms behind, but knowing that it was necessary. If only Ben had had to go to a few more towns in order to find those stupid fans!

~*~

That night, Brahms was waiting for her in bed, just as he'd promised. Puck opened all her windows and then coaxed Brahms up. She had a spray bottle of water and dampened the sheets. Then she switched on the fan and pointed it right at the bed. With fresh air circulating in the room and the fan making sure it got distributed particularly in their direction, and the cool wet sheets soothing their hot flesh, Brahms and Puck were able to lay closer together than they would have been otherwise. It was still too hot to cuddle but Puck lay on her belly and smiled sleepily at Brahms as he ran his hand lightly up and down her back.  


“Puck?” he whispered.  


“Mmm?”  


“I've changed my mind.” He cupped the small of her back. “I'll come with you.”  


Her breath caught in her throat. “You will?”  


“Yes. I'm afraid you're stuck with me.”  


Puck slid across the sheets and kissed him sweetly. “Oh, Brahms. I'm so glad. I was ready to drug you with Benadryl and drag you out of here if I had to.”  


“That won't be necessary. I'll come willingly.”  


“What changed your mind? Me saying that I love you?”  


“Mostly that, yes. It makes everything seem more real, that this isn't some wonderful dream that I'm having.”  


“Mmm.” His decision to come with her lifted a weight from her shoulders and Puck was able to fall asleep despite the heat.


	13. Women Waiting in Line

Puck woke at about four a.m. She was shivering uncontrollably, the covers still kicked off around her feet. She lifted her head from the pillow and saw the sky was gray once more. Maybe the Heelshires shouldn't have wasted their money on fans that they weren't going use until the next record breaking hot day.  


From next to her, Brahms snorted and woke. “Cold, my love?”  


“Uh huh,” Puck said through theatrically chattering teeth.  


He smiled a little and got up from the bed to shut all the windows and as he came back, he switched off the fan. Then he got back into bed and pulled her close, nuzzling behind her ear. “Better?”  


“Yes.” She arranged the blankets around them just so and then sprawled across his chest. “I had an idea.”  


“Mmm?”  


“What if... after we stay with Dad for awhile... you come back to the States with me?”  


He frowned. “I don't have a passport.”  


“Um, I kind of have an idea.”  


“What would be your kind of idea?”  


“We steal Ben's passport.”  


Brahms laughed. “What?”  


“Hear me out!” Puck rose on an elbow. “You two look enough alike and you're close enough in age... I think. How old are you?”  


“I'm twenty.”  


“Yeah, close enough. He's twenty three I think. Anyway! We steal his passport and yeah, it mostly looks like you but you had the picture done before you were burned in a fire. Everyone will be trying so hard to be polite that they won't look at it as closely. They won't want to offend a nice, proper English gentleman like you. What do you think?”  


Brahms sighed. “It sounds just crazy enough to work.”  


“I think you should get it from Ben's room when we're out with Malcolm tonight.”  


“Ah, yes. The big outing.”  


Puck bit her lip, feeling guilty. “Um, maybe I could cancel...”  


“No, you should go out. You've been cooped up with me for too long.”  


“Brahms.”  


“I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I mean it. You should go out and have some fun. When we're in London, I'll get to go out with you, too. Agreed?”  


She smiled brightly. “Agreed.”  


He kissed the tip of her nose. “Good. Go back to sleep, my little genius.”  


Happily, Puck cuddled against his chest, already picturing the two of them at her favorite pub, knocking back Guinness and holding hands across the table.

~*~

Puck glanced at the clock on the wall as Ben jumped one of her pieces and cleared it from the board. It was 9:30, well past the time Malcolm had said he'd be here.  


“Relax,” Ben said. “No one ever shows up bang on time.”  


“Half an hour seems a bit much, though,” Puck said. “I'm gonna call him.”  


Ben sat back in his chair, raising his hands in surrender. “Please yourself.”  


“I will, thanks,” Puck muttered on her way out of the room. She picked up the phone in the kitchen and glanced at Malcolm's number written on a notepad nearby. The phone rang forever until his voice mail picked up, telling her to leave a message. “Hi, Malcolm, it's Puck. I guess you're running late. Hopefully we see you soon. Bye.”  


Maybe he was the kind of person who didn't answer the phone at all when they were driving and he was on his way here right now? That was probably it. She went back into the sitting room and finished her game of checkers with Ben.  


Sighing, Ben dumped the remaining pieces from the board into the box. “Why don't we go to the pub ourselves? We can ask around about Malcolm there.”  


“Good idea,” Puck said. Maybe he'd gotten caught up in some work thing and didn't have time to call them. _What would be a grocery emergency_ , she wondered. The refrigeration going out and having to save all the food? That would be time consuming and could potentially lose Malcolm and his family a lot of money, hence why he wasn't fussed about getting in touch with them about going out tonight. That had to be the problem. Or something like it.  


As Puck climbed into the car, she mentally wished Brahms luck in his mission for Ben's passport.

~*~

It filled Brahms with dread to watch the car drive off the grounds. He pressed both hands to his heart and forced himself to take deep breaths. _She's coming back. She's not leaving me here._ When he could no longer see the rear lights of the vehicle, he turned and made his way to Ben's room. He absolutely detested that room; when his cousin came to stay, his parents had him sleep in the second bed instead of his own. Brahms would wake, unable to breathe, to find Ben crouched on his chest, covering Brahms's mouth and nose with his hands. Ben would be shaking with barely suppressed mirth, not letting go until Brahms stopped struggling and started to lose consciousness. Then he'd climb off of him and say, “It was only a joke.”  


_Ben's not here. Just go in, get what you need, and get out. You'll get the last laugh when you're flying to America with your new girlfriend thanks to his passport._   


Brahms slipped into the room through one of his secret doors. It was dark and he switched on a table lamp. In its soft glow, Brahms shuddered once more and then glanced around the room, wondering where to search first. He saw the bed was unmade and sniffed in disapproval. Puck always made her bed. She said it had been a rule in her house growing up. He smiled as he pictured a tiny Puck tidying her bed and then bouncing a coin off of it, satisfied with her work.  


Enough. He could think of Puck later. He decided to begin with the dresser and walked over to it. The first drawer he opened was full of Ben's pants and socks. Brahms made a face and closed the drawer again. He opened the next drawer. Shirts. Brahms lifted one up and inspected it. It was of excellent quality and seemed expensive. When Brahms started to place it back in the drawer, his hand hit something hard. Maybe it was the passport? He moved the shirts aside and found instead a spiral notebook. A diary? Quite a small diary. Curious, Brahms flipped it open.  


_Martin: 0.5 g_   
_Northman: 2g_   
_Finch: 1.5g_   
_Seward: 0.5g_   


Brahms puzzled over this but couldn't make sense of it. He put the notebook back where he found it and carefully patted around in the drawer to see if there was anything else. No. With an annoyed grunt, Brahms slid the drawer shut. The next drawer was full of trousers and there was nothing at all in the bottom drawer.  


Well, that was a waste. Brahms scratched his head and looked around the room for the next spot. What about the bedside table? It was as good a place as any. Brahms crossed the room and pulled open the drawer. There was that silly gothic book Ben had bought just to impress Puck. He knew for a fact that Ben thought reading was a waste of time. He just wanted everyone to think he was clever. When they'd been children, he'd carried about classics and then stood there preening when adults praised him for his mature taste and sophistication. He never actually cracked any of those books open himself; he had Brahms read them and then tell him what they were about.  


Behind the book was the passport. Exhaling in relief, Brahms grabbed it and slid it into his back pocket. Now he could leave this room. _And in a few days_ , he thought as he passed through his secret door and closed it behind him, _I can leave this house as well_.

~*~

Ben played Korn at full blast as they sped down the dark road to town. Puck hated Korn but knew she was in the minority so she said nothing, even though the terrible nu metal sound was as aggravating to her as nails on a chalkboard. She just sat there with her lips pinched shut in a tight line, counting the minutes until they could be in a nice, loud pub full of old people and not terribly cool young people listening to out dated records on the jukebox. At least, that's what she expected a country pub to be like. They might not even have the jukebox.  


Up ahead, they saw a few sawhorses with reflective tape on them blocking the road. A uniformed police officer wearing a fluorescent vest stepped out and waved his arms, urging them to stop.  


Ben slowed to a halt and rolled his window down.  


“Going awfully fast there, weren't you?” the officer said sharply.  


“'lo, Alfie,” Ben said.  


The officer came closer and Puck saw that he was maybe in his mid-twenties. His face lit up. “Ben Cooper! I heard you were in town! Wotcher up to, mate?”  


“I was taking my girl out for the evening,” Ben said. Neither of the men noticed Puck's look of shocked anger at his words. “What's the trouble?”  


Alfie's face sobered. “Road's closed. Really bad accident. I'm afraid you'll have to take your missus out another night.”  


“Damn. Anyone hurt?” Ben asked, brow creased.  


“I'm not supposed to say anything until we've notified kin,” Alfie replied with a sad sigh.  


“I see. Well, we'll turn around, then. 'Night, Alfie. Maybe we could grab a pint sometime soon?”  


“Yeah, mate, I'd like that. 'Night.” Alfie stood back and waved at them as Ben turned the car and started driving them back to the house.  


Puck's heart pounded in her chest. “Do you think it was Malcolm?”  


“No,” Ben said. “I'll bet he was turned away at the road block like us. Mobile service in this area is spotty which is why he didn't ring you. He's most likely at the pub, trying to get a signal to let us know about the problem.”  


“I called his phone and it rang,” Puck said, frowning. “Several times.”  


Ben shrugged. “He may have left it at work. It happens. He's a bit of a flake, to be honest.”  


That didn't sound like Malcolm at all. He helped run a successful business and had given every appearance of someone who had their shit together. Even if he had forgotten his phone at the shop, he'd have used the pub's phone to call them. Something was wrong and no amount of blind confidence from Ben was going to change her mind.

~*~

Brahms was reading the book of fairy tales when Puck came in the room. She was dressed in jeans and a lime green halter top, her hair piled up on her head. Little gold hoops shone in her ears. As he admired her, she let out a long, shaky sigh and started removing her earrings.  


“You're back early,” Brahms said.  


“The road's closed because of a bad car accident.” Puck placed her earrings inside her wooden jewelry box on top of the dresser. “We never heard from Malcolm so I can't shake the feeling that it was his car out there smashed up.”  


“Darling,” Brahms said gently, setting the book aside. “Don't invite trouble. It might be him and it might not. You shouldn't worry until you know one way or the other.”  


“Okay, but I can't help it,” Puck said. Her voice wobbled and she pressed a hand to her mouth, losing her battle with tears.  


Brahms got out of the bed and hurried to her, pulling her into his arms. “Shhh.”  


“I just hate not knowing,” Puck said, her words muffled against his chest.  


“Mmm hmmm,” Brahms murmured, stroking her hair. He held her a little tighter and wished there was something he could do to calm her fears. Short of having a psychic link with Malcolm, he didn't know what he could do. All he really had to offer was his arms and his sympathy.  


After a few moments, Puck drew back and sniffled. She smiled apologetically up into his face. “I'm not usually a cry baby. There's just something about this trip that brings out all this shit I'm typically not.”  


“Like a klutz,” Brahms teased.  


“Right.” She laughed lightly and sniffled again, drawing the back of her hand over her face. “And a romantic.”  


Brahms swallowed hard. “You've never been a romantic before?”  


“No. I've only had one boyfriend and honestly, I barely liked him. I was only with him because he was handsome and popular. Maybe I'd have broken up with him if I'd actually met someone I liked but it never really happened for me. I was starting to think that love was just made-up to sell albums and movies.”  


“So I'm your first love?” Brahms asked, trying to keep his tone light.  


Puck smiled at him. “Yeah, you are.  


“How did I...?” He didn't really know how to phrase what he was thinking.  


“Don't try to question it,” Puck said, patting his arm sympathetically. “I went from thinking I was incapable of love to falling head over heels in the span of a week. My brain will explode if I try to figure it out.”  


Brahms chuckled. “All right, I suppose I'll try living the unexamined life.”  


Scoffing, she flicked his chest. “Examine it all your want. Just don't try to apply reason and logic to something like love. It won't work.”  


“Okay, you're right. Did you want to go to bed?”  


She sagged against him. “Yes. I'm so wrung out. Malcolm should be delivering groceries tomorrow; I'll feel better once I see him. The road should be clear by then, right?”  


“Right,” Brahms agreed though he had no idea.  


Puck left him to get ready in the bathroom and Brahms snuggled down under the covers. He spent most of his time in Puck's room now. He'd been sleeping here, bathing here, even bringing his food to eat in here. He still had to stay in the walls during the day on the chance someone came by and heard him in here, but in the evenings this room became his as well as Puck's.  


She emerged from the bathroom in her pajamas which meant no fooling around. He wanted to pout but knew that she was too worried about Malcolm to be in the mood. Hopefully after the delivery tomorrow, she'd run to tell him the good news of Malcolm's safety and then he could bend her over the bed and pound her pussy until she came, face pressed into the duvet to keep from screaming.  


His horny thoughts kept him awake well into the night. He only fell asleep when Puck stirred awake at two o'clock, felt his cock digging into her belly, and then slipped off her sleep shorts to ride him until he came, hard and silent. Gratefully, he kissed her breasts and shoulders and then flopped backward, out in mere seconds.

~*~

Puck sketched at the kitchen table, working on Brahms Doll's winter wardrobe. She realized that she was going to have to buy yarn to crochet the little guy his sweaters. It would have to be crochet; she didn't know how to knit and couldn't figure it out for the life of her. She was planning to ask Mrs. Heelshire if she would let her make one whimsical item of clothing for Christmas and was crossing her fingers that she'd get the okay. He'd look so cute in an ugly Christmas sweater. Maybe she could even make a necklace for him with discarded Christmas lights?  


Mrs. Heelshire entered the room just then. Puck opened her mouth to get her opinion on the sweater but snapped it shut when she saw the worried look on the older woman's face. “It isn't like him to be this late,” Mrs. Heelshire muttered. She glanced at Puck. “Should I call the shop?”  


“That sounds like a good idea,” Puck said. “We never saw Malcolm last night. Something could have happened.”  


“Oh, I hope not.” Mrs. Heelshire picked up the phone and dialed the number. It rang several times before someone finally picked up. “Er, hello, this is Belinda Heelshire. We haven't received our delivery this afternoon and I was just calling to check in and make sure everything was all right. Has Malcolm been delayed?”  


Puck's stomach sank as she watched Mrs. Heelshire's face go slack and white with shock. She wobbled and grabbed the wall, nearly falling. Puck jumped from her seat and ran to the woman, grasping her arms to balance her.  


“Oh,” Mrs. Heelshire said, gasping. “Oh, I... I'm so sorry. Please-- Oh, that's kind of you, I'll be glad to-- Of course. Give my best to his family. When is the...? Yes. Yes, we'll be there. Of course, Gerry. Thank you. G-goodbye.”  


“What is it?” Puck asked, feeling her eyes already welling with tears.  


It took three tries for Mrs. Heelshire to hang the phone up in its cradle again, her hands were shaking so badly. She turned to Puck and her chin wobbled. “Malcolm's been killed in a car wreck.” Then she burst into tears and Puck pulled her close, hugging her tightly.

~*

The funeral was on Friday. Puck agreed to go, mostly because Brahms was devastated by the news and couldn't go himself. She'd only met Malcolm a few times but he'd made a good impression on her. He'd been kind and sweet and hadn't deserved his violent end. She felt guilty that he'd crashed on his way to collect her and Ben. She hadn't even wanted to go out with them and she sat there thinking about how she should have canceled, how it would have saved Malcolm's life.  


None of her clothes were funeral appropriate so Mrs. Heelshire gave her an old black dress of hers that Puck altered to fit her taller, leaner frame. It gave her something to focus on besides her grief and guilt.  


On the day of Malcolm's funeral, Puck sat on her bed, staring at the wall. She hadn't seen Brahms since she'd told him the news. His face had fallen and he'd ducked his head. Brahms didn't have many friends but he'd considered Malcolm one, though Malcolm had been unaware of his presence. She'd offered words of comfort and he'd accepted them mechanically. He'd thanked her with detached politeness when she told him that she'd go to the funeral for him. Then he'd ducked into the closet and that was the last she'd seen of him. It was hard sleeping without him, having gotten used to his stupid whistling sound as he slept. It was even harder thinking of him hurting far away from her, not wanting her company, though every part of her cried out to hold him and comfort him.  


“Puck?” She looked up to find Ben standing there. He adjusted the cuffs on the suit he'd borrowed from his uncle, something that Puck had also had to alter. “We're ready to go.”  


She took a shaky breath and stood. “Okay.” Her shoes had been borrowed as well and pinched badly. Luckily she wouldn't have to do much walking once they were at the funeral. It was mostly just sitting and standing around, right? Puck hadn't been to a funeral before; she'd only seen them on tv and in movies.  


They took Ben's car to the funeral home. It took time to find a parking space; Malcolm had been very popular. A woman with red-rimmed eyes greeted them at the door and handed them a program. A picture of Malcolm with shorter hair smiled cheekily at her from the front and Puck realized with a pang that she was just now learning Malcolm's surname.  


The Heelshires found four seats together near the back and they sat down as the service began. Everyone had something to say about Malcolm, all of it lovely and glowing. One woman with long, thick dark hair spoke at great length about how she should have married Malcolm when he'd proposed to her at the end of school and how she'd live with that regret the rest of her life. She burst into loud, frightening sobs and a small woman with red hair came up and wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her back to her seat.  


No one felt equipped to follow that particular performance so there was a pause where it seemed as if the eulogies were finished. But then a grim faced elderly woman clomped up to the microphone. She glared out at them for a moment and then began to speak in a low, angry tone.  


“It's no secret that my grandson and I had a falling out. He was a clever lad, a far sight more clever than either of his parents.” Someone gasped in the audience and the woman looked defiantly in the general direction of the sound. “He could have been anything he set his mind to and instead he chose to stay in this nowhere town and work in a grocery.” She said “grocery” the way Puck would say “shit heap.” “That boy had too much heart. If he'd had a little less of it, was more selfish, he'd be alive today. And he'd be alive today if someone hadn't tampered with his breaks!”  


Now everyone in the room was gasping and a shocked ripple of conversation passed through the room.  


Malcolm's gran wasn't finished yet. “Oh, the police said they wore away naturally, that a cut would have been cleaner, more obvious! But you tell me this: that boy had his car serviced just last month. We all know mechanics; they love finding things wrong with your car so they can charge you an arm and a leg to fix it. And are you telling me that they missed a frayed break line? No! This was murder! It was murder plain and simple and whoever did it is _in this room_!”  


The ripple of conversation turned into a wave of pure volume as people shouted out in horror. The vicar hurried to the front to try to get control of the situation but everyone ignored the little milquetoast man's desperate flapping.  


Malcolm's mother stood, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. “You horrible old bag! Get out of here! Out! _Out, you wretched creature_!” Malcolm's father led his wife out of the room while she continued to scream, “Why are you making me leave?! This is my son's funeral, I should be here! Make her leave! She hated my boy! She hated him! She hated him!! _She hated him_!”  


When the door banged shut on the last, guttural screaming of the bereaved mother, the room fell silent. Everyone faced front again, where Malcolm's gran still stood at the podium.  


She drew in a breath and her nostrils quivered ever so slightly. “That's all I have to say. Whichever of you murdered that dear, clever, foolish boy of mine, you won't get away with it. Not at all.” Then she drew herself up proudly and stalked from the room.  


The vicar tentatively stepped up next. “Erm, thank you all for coming today. There will be a short graveside service and then close family and friends will gather at the family home. We hope to see you there.”  


Everyone gathered up their things and rushed out of the room before he'd quite finished speaking. Puck and the Heelshires were among them.  


“Are we going to--” Puck started to ask.  


“Good god, no,” Mr. Heelshire said and no one argued with him.  


As they walked to the car, Puck glanced back and saw Malcolm's gran standing under a tree nearby. She was staring at everyone in the parking lot, her pinched face inspecting ever person she saw, taking her measure of them. Her eyes met Puck's and they stared at one another for a moment. Puck raised her hand in greeting. Malcolm's gran continued to stare and then slowly raised her own hand.  


Then Puck ducked into the passenger seat and Ben drove them away as fast as he was able.


	14. Come Check it and See

The next few days passed in a dull, dreary blur. When Puck and the Heelshires returned from Malcolm's funeral, Puck had gone up to her room and locked the door, then went through the secret door in her closet to check on Brahms. She'd found him slumped on his bed, back against the wall, just gazing off into space. He'd accepted the funeral program she'd handed him without looking at it or her and didn't respond to any of her questions, except for when she asked, “Do you want me to leave?” and he'd nodded. Stung, she'd left him alone but told herself that everyone grieves differently and maybe this was Brahms's way.  


The Heelshires, never exactly the most talkative couple, were silent now. They didn't speak at meal times, not even to politely ask how she'd slept. It was probably obvious from looking at her that she wasn't sleeping well. She'd left her under eye concealer at her dad's flat so her dark circles were obvious. Ben was quiet, too, though his was a tense silence and not the deeply bereaved silence of his aunt and uncle.  


On Sunday, Puck used the downstairs phone to call her dad. She shut her eyes tight when she got his voice mail. “Dad? Please call me when you get this. I need you.” Then she hung up and wondered if she should call Tony instead. She bit her lip. She really wanted to leave this house but it felt drastic to reach out for her brother in America. Why do that when her Dad was in the same country as her and could just order a car for her? What did it say about her own father that her partying eighteen year old brother who unironically referred to breasts as “hoobity boobities” was more reliable?  


That night at dinner, Ben finally broke the silence. “I'm worried about you two.”  


Mr. Heelshire stared stonily at his plate but Mrs. Heelshire looked up and gave Ben the ghost of a smile. “I'm sorry, Benjamin dear. This hasn't been the most entertaining visit for you, I'm sure.”  


“Forget about me,” Ben said. “I'm worried about you two cooped up in the house and mourning like this.”  


“We're fine,” Mrs. Heelshire said, an edge to her voice.  


Ben shook his head. “Yes, I know. You're always fine. That's the problem. Don't you ever want to just... be upset? And not fine? You can't do that while we're here.” Puck looked over at Ben quickly; was he planning on finally leaving? If so, how was she going to get Brahms away? “Why don't you two take a holiday at your lake house? Puck and I will watch things here for you, keep the rat traps clean, bring in the mail. All that. What do you think?”  


Mrs. Heelshire blinked and looked over at her husband. “I think... that sounds lovely. But I'm not sure that we could do that. We can't ask you to extend Puck's stay any more than she already has.”  


“She doesn't mind,” Ben said. Puck bit her tongue and forced a smile for the Heelshires.  


“We'd still be secluded at the lake house,” Mr. Heelshire said, bitterly.  


“It would at least be a change of scene,” Ben said and added with something dark in his tone, “And it would only be the two of you without having to entertain guests.”  


The older couple looked at one another for a moment, worry in their eyes. Then Mrs. Heelshire said quickly, “We'll think about it.”  


They all returned to their meal and when that was finished and the dishes cleared away, everyone went up to their rooms. Puck considered going to Brahms and telling him about this new development but figured that he'd been eavesdropping and knew all about it. Instead, she decided to get ready for bed and turn in early. It took her ages to fall asleep these days, thinking about Malcolm, worrying about Brahms, wondering if she was ever going to leave this horrible house.  


She pulled open her dresser drawer for her sleep clothes and noticed that she was down to just one set. She'd have to do laundry soon. She lifted out the matching tank top and boxer shorts and revealed the red lingerie she'd tucked there what felt like ages ago. Smirking, she lifted it up. It was fairly simple; it had a halter top with a big bow just under the breasts. From the bow was a ribbon that went down and covered the nether regions. She'd look like a gift that Brahms would have been thrilled to unwrap just a few days ago.  


Maybe he still would? She bit her lip and stared at the silly lingerie. She could go to him now, try to shake him out of the funk he was in. But what if he thought that she wasn't taking him seriously, that she could just flash her goods and that was supposed to magically solve his problems?  


Puck squared her shoulders. Whatever. She was miserable and she missed him. He was hurting and she'd given him his space. It was time to check in again. She stripped and fumbled with the lingerie, trying to figure out all the straps in the back before making sense of it. Then she lost her nerve and got her short bathrobe, the pink one patterned with yellow rubber duckies to cover up. If he turned her away then she could preserve some of her dignity instead of slinking off like a disgraced Christmas present.  


She took a moment to brush her hair out and then dabbed on a little lip gloss and mascara. That was about as dolled up as she got. Puck drew in a deep breath and then went through her closet, shutting it behind her before opening the secret door. She stepped carefully, dreading running into rats and then her heart nearly leaped into her throat when she heard voices from Brahms's room.  


“Would you be all right if we left? Only for awhile, maybe a week? We'd be right back, dear.”  


“Yes, mummy.”  


“Are you sure? I-I know that you've always said that you didn't like guests and Benjamin and his friend have been here for so long already...”  


“I don't mind them.”  


“Good. That's good. I thought you didn't mind, you've been quite calm. I-I'm glad. And your hair looks quite nice. Did you do that yourself?”  


“Yes, mummy.”  


“Well. All right. Then we'll be leaving in the next few days. Did you need anything else? Some more films perhaps?”  


“Yes. Could you get me Dirty Dancing?”  


There was a pause and in a different tone Mrs. Heelshire said, “Excuse me?”  


“It's a film I heard Puck mention once. I was curious what it was.”  


“Oh! Oh, yes, I think I've heard of it. Well, I can see if we can find it for you. Anything else?”  


“Godzilla.”  


“Is this something else you heard Puck talk about?”  


“Yes, mummy.”  


“You're being careful, aren't you? You'll frighten her if she sees you and we-- we won't be able to... to...”  


“I know, mummy. I'm careful.”  


“Yes, you always are. Well. Be a good boy, Brahms. Goodnight.”  


“Goodnight, mummy.”  


Puck listened as Mrs. Heelshire's footsteps walked away. She really did make a lot of racket compared to Brahms's careful steps. When the sounds faded, Puck waited a few moments longer. She wanted to be sure that his mother wasn't about to come back.  


_Oh, bitch, please. You're stalling._ Puck closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then turned the corner into Brahms's room.  


He was already standing in the middle of the room, waiting for her. “I was wondering when you were going to come out of hiding,” he said, his face blank.  


“Jesus!” she yelped, pressing a hand to her chest. She couldn't believe how many jump scares she'd had in this house. It had to have taken at least two years off of her life. “How did you know I was there?”  


Brahms sat back down on his bed and didn't answer, only stared at her.  


“I just...” She sighed and said miserably, “I miss you.” Her eyes started to well up but she did her best to hold back the waterworks. “You've been so unhappy and distant and I'm worried about you. I know you're used to being on your own but you have me now, you know? I'm here for you when you need me. Okay?”  


He nodded. “Okay.”  


She waited but that seemed to be all he intended to say. “So, um...”  


“You should go back to bed.” Brahms swung his legs up and laid down.  


“Is it okay if...” she trailed off, losing her nerve. She'd managed to talk herself up in her room but when face to face with his cold apathy, she felt like an idiot in her stupid rubber duck bathrobe. She turned to leave.  


“Is it okay if what?” Brahms asked, his tone still flat.  


Puck wanted to mutter “never mind” and scurry from the room but she knew that as soon as she left, she'd be kicking herself, hating that she'd left him all alone again. And right after telling him that he didn't have to be on his own. It was too stupid and too sad and it didn't need to be that way, damn it.  


“Can I stay here with you?” she whispered.  


Brahms finally looked at her, startled. “Why would you want to?”  


“Oh gee, I don't know,” Puck said rolling her eyes and throwing out her arms. “Because I love you? Because you haven't slept with me in three days and I miss you? Because I'm worried sick about you and you won't talk to me and I'm getting really sick of this shit?”  


For a moment it looked like he was going to smile but then he sobered and said, “It isn't a good idea.”  


“Why?” she asked, trying to seem reasonable but she knew she sounded like a brat being told that she couldn't have her own way.  


“There's rats.”  


“Yeah, the rats. Great. They can get me in the house as easily as they could get me here; besides I'd have you to protect me.”  


His face shifted into a look of such loathing that she actually took a step back. “Oh, yes, I'm a real hero.”  


“Brahms,” Puck said, shocked. She crossed the room to him in a hurry, dropping down onto his bed. She ignored the way he stiffened up at her intrusion. “What the hell? What's that supposed to mean? What's going on with you? It's more than just grief. Tell me.”  


He muttered something.  


“Audible decibels, please.”  


“It's not grief,” he finally snarled. “There, are you happy?”  


“No,” she snapped back. “And don't talk to me like that! Use your words and tell me what's wrong!”  


Brahms fumed and then sat up, reaching out to shove her out of his bed. She caught his hand and twisted his wrist, making him cry out in pain. She dropped his hand into his lap.  


“Try to lay hands on me again and I'll twist your dick off next.” Puck leaned forward. “I'm only asking you one more time and that's it. If you don't answer, I'm leaving this room and I'm barricading that little secret door into my room. When you eventually get out of this little funk you're having, I'm not going to take you back. Get it? So fucking talk or I'm walking.” She drew in a breath to make herself calm down and said, “What's. Wrong.”  


Brahms rubbed at his wrist in sullen silence. Then he looked up angrily at Puck and seeing the stony, determined look on her face, he wilted. Finally, he began to speak. “I'm sorry that Malcolm's dead. I truly am. He never joined in bullying me and he's really helped my parents the last few years.”  


Puck nodded and said softly, “Yeah. He was a good guy. I didn't really know him that well but I could tell.”  


“But when you told me he was dead, I didn't think, 'What a shame, what a waste of a young life.'” His lips trembled and he said, “I thought, 'Damn, now he can't get me and Puck out of here anymore.'”  


“Oh, honey.” Puck reached out for him and stroked his face. “It's okay.”  


“It's not okay! It's selfish and cruel!”  


“That's not really fair, is it?” Puck said calmly. “Okay, it's a little selfish. But you do miss him, don't you? You think his death was unfair and horrible?”  


Brahms's tears started to fall as he nodded.  


“Well, then that's fine. You mostly feel regret that he died but you also miss that he can't do something for us. You can have two different feelings at once and they don't need to cancel each other out.”  


“Every time I looked at you, I remembered my selfishness and... and I couldn't stand it. So I've stayed away.” Brahms suddenly grasped her hands. “I've missed you, too. I can barely sleep, I haven't been able to eat. All I want is to be back with you, in our bed, and for us to get out of here like we planned.”  


Puck smiled and her tears started to spill. “I'm here now. I'm also working on another plan for us. I called my Dad; when he gets back to me, I'm gonna have him order us a car and we'll do everything that we were going to do before, except Malcolm won't be the driver. You'll pack and meet us at the gate. Okay?”  


Brahms sniffled. “Okay.”  


“Okay,” she said again. “Now you can grieve Malcolm and put the escape plan out of your head. We'll be fine. I promise.”  


“When will your father call back?” Brahms asked, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.  


Puck heaved a sigh. “Who knows. If I don't hear from him by the end of tomorrow, I'll call my brother. He said he'd help me. We're not completely hopeless, Brahms.”  


“No,” he agreed. He took a few deep breaths and then said, “Did you want to spend the night in here or go back to your room?”  


“Welllll, I'm always the one to host, so it's only fair that you take a turn,” she teased.  


Brahms smiled and then nodded at her robe. “You can go ahead and take that off. I know you have something to show me.”  


“Did you peek?” she asked indignantly.  


“No. I learned my lesson about that early on. You just never wear that robe so I figure there's something underneath that you want me to see. Something I'll like.”  


Puck grinned wickedly. “I hope you will.” Then she stood and untied the belt, letting the robe drop.

~*~

All Brahms could do was stare. Her golden skin seemed to glow in the gentle lighting, inviting his touch. He reached out and lightly caressed the curve of her waist. She was so exquisite, it didn't feel right that she could possibly be his. For whatever reason, though, she was offering her heart and body to him, had cried real tears for him, lost sleep out of worry for him. Her face always lit up when she opened her bedroom door and found him already there, waiting for her.  


She loved him. And she deserved a man so much better than the one he'd been so far.  


“Come here, darling,” he whispered.  


Smiling, Puck climbed into his lap, lacing her fingers behind his neck. “How do you like your present?” she asked eagerly.  


“I'm sorry,” he whispered.  


“I know.” She stopped smiling and smoothed his hair back off his forehead. “You've been under a lot of stress.”  


“I had no right to try to hurt you just now,” he said, feeling such a sickening amount of shame that his stomach cramped. “I promise you that I will never so much as raise my hand to you ever again.”  


Puck searched his eyes for a moment and then nodded slowly. “I believe you. And in the unlikely event that you _do_ ever try to hurt me, I'll leave you, Brahms. I love you so much but I'm not sticking around if our relationship ends up like that. Okay?”  


He swallowed hard. “Okay.”  


“Good.” She kissed him lightly then said, “Now unwrap your present.”  


Breathing shakily, Brahms untied the ribbon holding the whole ensemble together and immediately nuzzled the soft valley between her breasts. She stroked his hair and murmured quietly to him and he raised his head to stare into those stunning gray eyes of hers.  


“I love you,” he said.  


“I love you, too.” She smiled so brightly that it took his breath away. He clutched her to him and kissed her almost frantically, almost like he was afraid that she'd disappear. He'd come dangerously close to losing her with his bad behavior; he never wanted to make the same mistakes again.  


They fell backwards on the bed and Puck eagerly opened the front of his trousers, drawing out his rapidly hardening cock. She jacked him off slowly while he unbuttoned his shirt, wanting as much skin exposed as possible so he could feel every inch of her. When he'd gotten the shirt off and was lifting his singlet away, Puck lowered herself onto his cock. His breath caught in his chest. The inside of her was always so hot and wet, it nearly made him finish that instant. He always had to grit his teeth and mentally sing through the “Relax” song until he felt safe enough to continue.  


“When we get out of here?” Puck said silkily, rolling her hips. “Mmm, I have so much planned for you.”  


He gripped her hips tightly. “L-like what?”  


“I can get us fun costumes and we can play. And... there's something I've been curious to try.” He watched in fascination as she blushed, her eyes shyly looking away. How could she look so demure while she rode his cock wearing only an unraveled ribbon?  


“Tell me,” he breathed, his hands smoothing upwards to cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her erect nipples.  


She whimpered sweetly and tilted her head to the side. “We'll need to get some lube first, then I'm gonna let you put it in somewhere else...”  


“Where?” Brahms asked, puzzled. She hadn't used her mouth on him yet, but that was only a matter of time. She'd tried to one morning but he'd wanted to come inside of her so he'd lifted her head away and flipped her over. They wouldn't need lube for that; her saliva would be more than sufficient.  


Puck giggled nervously. “You know. The other place.”  


“I don't...?”  


“You must be the only straight man in the history of the world who doesn't dream of butt stuff,” Puck said through laughter, all the while still rising and falling on him.  


It took him a moment before the meaning of her words sunk in. “Oh. Oh! Sodomy?”  


Puck made a face. “Don't say it like that.”  


“Sorry. What do you call it then...?”  


“Anal.”  


“Oh. All right.” Brahms pondered that a moment. “Er, what's the appeal exactly?”  


“It's even tighter than my pussy.”  


Brahms felt his eyes go huge. “But your pussy is already tight!”  


Puck laughed more, leaning on his chest. “You're adorable, you know that?”  


“Puck, if I try anything tighter, I might die!”  


“Oh, you will not!” Puck swatted his chest. “I'm ready to come, can you stop being so cute and just suck on my tits like a good boy?”  


She hadn't called him that before. His balls and stomach clenched tightly and he gripped her ass in his hands, squeezing. “Fuck, do that again,” he snarled.  


“What?” Puck asked. She tilted her head to the side.  


“Call me that again.”  


“Oh.” Puck smiled at him and said all low and seductive, “I want my good boy to fuck me.”  


His eyes rolled in his head. “Oh god...”  


“My nipples still need attention,” she reminded him.  


Panting, Brahms raised his head to her breast and sucked hard, bringing his teeth down on her sensitive flesh. She cried out and gripped his hair in one fist, thrusting frantically against him now.  


“Oh god, you're the best boy! Mmm, you're the best I've ever had!”  


Brahms released her nipple and roared, coming as he held onto her hips and slammed her up and down his cock. Sometime during all that, she must have found her own release because he felt her pulsing all around him, felt more moisture coating his balls as he sank into her again and again. Then they slumped to the bed, his hips still rocking into her slowly. He was loathe to withdraw, wanting to just stay inside her all night if he could.  


“I hope no one heard that,” Puck whispered once they'd calmed down.  


“They can't hear me,” Brahms said, kissing her throat. “Dad sound-proofed this area ages ago after one particular incident.”  


“What incident?” Puck asked.  


Brahms winced. He shouldn't have brought it up. “Er. I um... I was by myself and...”  


“They heard you jacking off?”  


“Yes.”  


She laughed but it wasn't mean laughter. “Oh god, how humiliating. I've never caught any of my brothers before but I once heard a girl Tony sneaked into his room.”  


“Ugh.” Brahms looked at her curiously. “What did you say to him? If you even said anything?”  


“I told him that she was obviously faking it and he needed to step up his game. He didn't sneak anyone else in after that.”  


They both laughed for awhile and then settled down, sighing. Brahms pulled the blankets over them and Puck got settled on his chest. Usually it was just her head and upper body resting against him but his bed was so much smaller than hers that she had to throw a leg over him too. He could feel her wet pussy on his hip and it gave him delicious shivers.  


“Ready to sleep?” Brahms murmured.  


“Yeah.” Puck nuzzled his chest.  


He picked up the battery pack for his twinkle lights and switched it off. The room fell into darkness and Brahms pressed his face into Puck's hair. He was too thrilled by her presence to fall sleep, so he just laid there and fantasized about all the things they'd do once they'd escaped this house and started their new lives together in London.


	15. You Can't Love Me Honey

At breakfast, Mrs. Heelshire announced that she and her husband had decided to go to the lake house after all. “Thank you for suggesting it, Benjamin,” she said with a wobbly smile. “It's always so lovely there; that house holds so many good memories.”  


“Did you ever take Brahms there?” Puck asked, cutting a glance in Mrs. Heelshire's direction.  


To her surprise, the Heelshires both smiled a little. Mr. Heelshire even looked misty-eyed. “Yes,” he said. “We took Brahms there many times. He was quite a good little swimmer. Always splashing and showing off, wasn't he Belinda?”  


She let out a startled laugh but was smiling. “I'd forgotten! Yes, he was like a little fish. We used to joke that he'd grow up to swim in the Olympics.”  


_And now all he has is a pathetic little pond to splash in because you two idiots believed Ben over your beautiful son._ The loathing she felt was swift and sudden; she had to quickly pick up her glass of orange juice and drink it to hide her face.  


“We're leaving tomorrow morning,” Mr. Heelshire said. He was watching Ben. “I'm trusting you to keep an eye on this one, Puck. No wild parties.”  


“Of course not,” Puck said firmly, glaring over at Ben. “You heard your uncle. No ragers.”  


“Well, damn, how am I going to spend my time, then?” Ben drawled, winking at her.  


Puck managed a smile and half listened as Mrs. Heelshire talked about the night's dinner menu. All she could think of was Brahms upstairs and how soon she could break away from his family to be with him again.

~*~

Puck and Ben went for a run on the grounds after breakfast had been cleared away. Initially, Puck had tried to go alone but Ben had caught her on the stairs and invited himself along. She couldn't very well tell him to fuck off, as much as she would have liked to. They met by the stone angel in the garden and stretched in silence for a few minutes.  


“Listen,” Ben said and she looked up at him, mid stretch. He wasn't putting on his Bertie Wooster voice he used for his aunt and uncle and sometimes even her. He sounded... normal. “I wanted to apologize to you. I know I've kept you here much longer than we originally intended.”  


“It's okay,” Puck said, thinking of Brahms that morning after his shower. He'd sat on her bed, towel looped around his waist and he'd been smiling. He'd looked so sweet and beautiful that it hurt her heart. It had occurred to her then that until her stay, he probably hadn't had much to smile about in the last ten years. That alone was worth the company of his loathsome family.  


Ben cleared his throat. “And... I'm sorry about what happened at the pond. I made you uncomfortable. I just... you took me by surprise. I've often...” he trailed off and glanced away, clearly embarrassed. An ugly blush spread on his neck and to his ears, splotching his face. Puck was both repulsed and fascinated. “Puck, I'm sorry, but I'm in love with you.”  


Oh, god. She was so relieved that he wasn't looking at her because she knew her horror must have shown. Her face pulled back in a tight grimace which she did her best to reverse, trying to close her mouth and thin her lips into a more neutral expression.  


“You're all I think about,” he went on, voice trembling, “ever since I first saw you on campus. You were wearing this magenta dress over a pair of jeans and a men's white work shirt knotted around your waist. I hadn't seen anyone like you before. You didn't notice but everyone had their eyes on you. But when you passed me you looked up and gave me a little smile. Just this friendly little flash of a grin and you were on your way with your headphones on. I wondered what you were listening to.”  


Puck thought that may have been the first week of school. She didn't get to wear that dress for long because there had been an unfortunate bleach accident in the laundry room. She had no memory of smiling at Ben, but then, she'd made it a habit of smiling at everyone when she found out how uptight and silent English people tended to be. It had been a lovely bit of spite she chose to indulge in after classmates had decided to take out their displeasure with American politics on her personally. It was either she take the passive aggressive route or throat punch the next person to call her a “yank.”  


“Um, I was listening to a lot of Fiona Apple then,” Puck said.  


Ben looked at her then and smiled. She felt a pang. If he didn't try so hard, acting like he needed so desperately to win a game, she might have fallen for him at school. He looked a lot like Brahms but his eyes were more of a hazel green and his face just didn't have the personality and charm that Brahms's did.  


“I can see that about you,” Ben said warmly.  


Sighing, Puck rubbed her arms. “Listen, Ben--”  


“Don't.” Ben held up a hand. “I know. You don't feel the same way.”  


“Right.” Puck nodded and bit her lip. “I'm not, um, not able to see anyone right now anyway. It isn't a good time.”  


Ben frowned. “Not a good time?”  


“Well, no.” Puck shifted on her feet. “I've been wondering if I should have... I don't know how much longer I'm going to stay in school. I really miss my family and I'm not fitting in as well as I'd hoped I would. I might transfer after next semester.” She wasn't lying. The cruel things her friends had said about her antipathy towards Ben had really damaged their relationship. When she'd moved out of the dorms, she hadn't said a word to her roommate, hadn't joined in on the hugging going on in the lobby. It wasn't until she'd met Brahms and they began seriously planning to run away together, that she'd given the idea of transferring more thought.  


“I had no idea,” Ben said quietly.  


“Well, I didn't tell you.” She shrugged. “So anyway. It wouldn't be a good idea to start a relationship when I might not even be in the country much longer.”  


“What if you changed your mind?” Ben asked.  


“What?” Puck stared at him. Did he honestly think he could sway her to stay?  


“What would it take for you to change your mind?” Ben asked.  


Puck wanted this conversation to end and to just start running. Her whole body thrummed with tension; she just wanted to tire herself out and then go back to her room and shower. Maybe Brahms would be there and he'd scrub her back. “I don't know,” she said, accidentally letting some impatience show.  


Ben's face fell. “I'm sorry, Puck. I'll leave you alone, now.”  


She nodded, not even wanting to keep up the pretense of politeness. “Thanks.”  


“Which way are you going to run?” he asked. “I'll, um. I'll take the opposite direction.”  


Puck looked around uncertainly and Ben said, “Why don't you go that way?” He pointed. “I think it's the only direction you haven't explored yet.”  


“Okay, cool,” she said, just barely keeping herself from saying “whatever” instead. “I'll see you later.” She didn't wait for him to respond and took off running in the direction he'd indicated. Once she got through the gardens, the ground sloped down a hill and the forest began. She chanced a look over her shoulder to make sure Ben wasn't following her. She couldn't even see the house, much less him. It felt nice not having either of them peering over her shoulder.  


She stepped up her pace and blanked her mind, resuming her run.

~*~

Dr. Ethan Goodfellow was just barely conscious as he unlocked the door to his flat. He winced at the beeping of his alarm and quickly typed in the code to shut it off. He'd spent the last sixteen hours in surgery, reconstructing the face of a girl who had been badly battered by an ex-boyfriend. The girl was nineteen, the same age as Puck, and he'd had to use every bit of his training to keep himself at a disconnect so he could do his job well. Afterward, he'd sat down with the girl's parents to reassure them that she'd made it through surgery but the recovery was going to be the hardest part. The couple in front of him had been in tears but clutched each other's hands so tightly it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began. He'd been surprised at how jealous that had made him feel.  


He locked his front door now, re-set the alarm, and went straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine. He sighed and took a few fortifying gulps and then crossed to his freezer. Before she left on her trip, Puck had cooked up a lot of meals and put them in Tupperware containers for him to thaw and eat after a long, hard day. He settled on a meal of salmon, risotto, and asparagus and preheated the oven.  


Hopefully she'd be back soon. It had been two weeks already.  


Ethan went to his office to wait for the oven to finish preheating. He switched on the light and sagged into his chair. As always, he devoted some time to the framed photos on his desk. The wedding picture of he and Lisa, both of them so young. Puck looked so much like her, the reason why he had difficulty meeting his daughter's eyes these days. The photos he kept, insisted on giving pride of place on his desk, were a constant reminder of his failed marriage but somehow seeing the product of he and Lisa looking right at him and speaking to him was an even greater pain. He had a similar problem with Anthony, who also favored his mother in looks.  


He forced himself to look away from the love of his life and at the next picture instead. It was something Puck had made sure to send him years ago. The kids were sitting on the stairs of their mother's home. Tony and Puck were at the top, bright smiles on their faces, dressed casually in jean shorts and t-shirts. A few steps lower was Johnny, his hair at its longest, hands dangling between his knees as he smiled crookedly, the same smile as Ethan's. And a step bellow Johnny was Willy-- Liam, he preferred Liam now-- holding a green chalkboard that said “FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL 1999.” He winked in an exaggerated fashion, giving a thumbs up. Ethan remembered picking the kids up from school every other Friday to spend the weekend with him, how his three story condo suddenly became a home once they were there. He decided to move back to London when he'd been drying Willy – Liam – after his bath and the then six year old had looked up at him with his big gray eyes and asked, “If Mom marries Mike, are you still gonna be our dad?”  


Sighing, he looked at the final picture, Puck's senior photo. She wore a sleeveless red floral dress that stopped at her knees, her hair tamed somewhat. She stood in a field, leaning against a wooden fence. CLASS OF 2002 it said in gold script in the corner. He remembered her calling the day she'd posed for the photo and laughingly telling him of the horse who had ambled over to investigate what people were doing at his fence. She'd fed him grass and then he refused to leave, frustrating the photographer. Every time they tried to move along the fence, the horse followed, hoping for more pets and snacks. Finally, they'd given up and posed her in the trees nearby instead. Later, Puck and Lisa had gone through the pictures and decided they liked the first fence picture the best and chose that one to mail out with her graduation announcements.  


Ethan took out his mobile and, while looking at Puck's photograph, checked his voicemail. His messages were all mostly work related and he opened his datebook and took notes here and there. Then the last message stopped him cold. “Dad? Please call me when you get this. I need you.”  


With fumbling fingers, Ethan hastily punched the buttons to return the phone call. To his horror, a calm female voice said, “We're sorry, the party you're trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again.”  


Wait. Wait. She said this house was secluded and her mobile didn't get service there. He squinted at his phone, looked at the number that Puck had actually been calling him from and dialed that. It rang and he released a slow breath. Thank god.  


“Heelshire residence,” a male voice said.  


“Yes, hello, this is Dr. Ethan Goodfellow. My daughter Puck is staying at your home. Could I speak with her, please?”  


“Of course, just a moment please,” the voice said politely.  


Ethan waited for almost a minute and the phone went dead. Had the bastard hung up on him? He called the number again and his stomach sank.  


“We're sorry, the party you're trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again.”

~*~

The dinner was delicious. Puck had always liked Cornish hens, something her dad always made at Christmas time. With it was Brussels sprouts cooked with lovely crispy bacon, scalloped potatoes, fresh salad, and home baked rolls. She had noticed Mrs. Heelshire plating some for a fifth dish and Puck had felt happy that she was setting some aside for Brahms.  


Ben held up his glass of wine and said cheerfully, “A toast to my aunt and uncle, the gracious hosts. Thank you for trusting your home to us.”  


Mrs. Heelshire beamed and Mr. Heelshire nodded politely and they all took a drink.  


“It's been so long since we've been to the lake house, I'm sure the place is full of dust,” Mrs. Heelshire said with a laugh. “Our first day will be devoted to cleaning.”  


“Couldn't you send someone ahead first to do that for you?” Puck asked.  


“Clifford takes care of the outside of the house and general repairs, he doesn't do housework,” Mrs. Heelshire said. When she saw Puck's confused expression she said, “The caretaker. He lives on the other side of the lake. Lovely man.”  


“Didn't he tell Brahms a fairy story about losing his hand to a wolf?” Ben asked.  


“That sounds like something Clifford would have done, yes,” Mrs. Heelshire said.  


“I remember someone tormenting Brahms with wolf howls,” Mr. Heelshire said a little loudly. He was already on his second glass of wine.  


Mrs. Heelshire looked at him sharply. “Roland.”  


“No, no, Aunt Belinda, it's true. I teased Brahms.” Ben sat back in his chair. “I was a child myself, Uncle Roland. Surely you can find it in your heart to forgive me. It was only a little fun.”  


“For you maybe,” Mr. Heelshire said harshly. “It wasn't fun for Brahms.”  


“Roland,” Mrs. Heelshire said again, louder. “Stop.”  


“My brother Johnny was terrified of a duck mask my mom got me,” Puck said suddenly. “Any time I wore it he'd scream and cry so I made sure to wear it whenever I could. One day my mom threw it in the garbage.” She took a mouthful of scalloped potatoes then concluded, “I was furious with her at the time but I think she made the right decision. Unchecked cruelty just gets worse if no one steps in to stop it.”  


That shut everyone up. They ate their dinner and had seconds on the sides, especially the scalloped potatoes which were so perfectly creamy and cheesy. The stress and the sleepless nights were getting to Puck and she found that she had a hard time keeping her eyes open. She sat up straight and drank a little more wine. _How's that supposed to wake you, though? Alcohol is a depressant, genius._  


Finally, when she felt she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, Puck stood. “I'm sorry, I think I'll have to miss dessert. I'm very tired.”  


“I'm a little tired as well,” Mrs. Heelshire said, yawning delicately against her hand. “Did either of you gentleman want dessert?”  


Both men muttered that they didn't and Mrs. Heelshire asked Ben to help her clear the table. He agreed and the two of them started gathering dishes and walking them to the kitchen.  


“Goodnight, Mr. Heelshire,” Puck said politely.  


Mr. Heelshire glanced at the dining room door and said, “I'll walk you up, dear.”  


He'd never done that in all her time at the house so she confusedly agreed. He lightly grasped her elbow as they walked. His grip tightened when they reached the stairs and he spoke in a low, urgent tone. “You can't stay in this house any longer. I've arranged the car to pick us up and take us to the lake house and then come back here for you. Pack your things and meet the driver at the gate. Don't let Ben see you.”  


“What's going on?” Puck said, suddenly frightened. The look in Mr. Heelshire's eyes was wild.  


“It isn't safe here for you. Not with him. Don't tell him what I've said.”  


“Mr. Heel--”  


“The less you know the better,” he forged on. “Promise me, Puck. Pack what you need and get out of here.”  


Puck felt her pulse racing, fighting against the lethargy that was settling in her body. She swayed where she stood and Mr. Heelshire grabbed her with his other arm as well, just barely keeping her from crashing to the floor.  


“Promise me,” he whispered harshly.  


“I-- I promise,” Puck said.  


“Good.” Mr. Heelshire made sure she had her footing once more and then let go of her. “Goodnight, Puck. Sleep well,” he said a little louder.  


“Night,” she said. “I'll see you two off in the morning.”  


“That would be good,” he said formally and then gave her a little bow. Then he turned and headed down the hallway to his room.  


Puck watched him, blinking stupidly. What was going on? She wished she could think but god, she was so tired, getting even more tired by the minute. She opened her door and stumbled inside. She just barely remembered to lock the door behind her and then staggered to the bed. Brahms was already there, spread across the mattress, snoring. It wasn't something he usually did.  


She poked his side and said, “Quit snoring.”  


“Mmm, Puck?” he murmured.  


“Yeah.” Puck kicked off her shoes and dropped to the bed to wriggle out of her clothes. “Move over. And no snoring or I'll make you leave.”  


“Kay,” Brahms mumbled. “Love you.”  


“Uh huh,” Puck said and was out like a light, topless and her jeans hanging off one ankle.


	16. C'mon Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Since I wrote most of this in November, I was planning to take most of December off but maybe get going again mid month and then... my cat died the week before Christmas. I still feel really shitty about it but I'm at least able to type the words that he's dead and I'm not crying so that's some progress. Anyway, happy 2021 to you all and here's the chapter.

Puck knew something was wrong before she'd even opened her eyes. The air of the house felt unnaturally still. On a typical day, she usually didn't hear anyone moving about in the house but she could at least sense their presence. This morning, she couldn't sense anything except a vague current of panic and unease. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the shadows fell along the walls in an unfamiliar way. She never saw her room in this light. Because...  


“Oh god,” Puck whispered. “Oh god, no. No no no no no no no!” She scrambled out of bed, accidentally kneeing Brahms in the nuts and waking him up.  


He groaned in pain. “What's going on? Why'd you--”  


“Get up,” she said tersely, going to her dresser and practically leaping into her clothes. “Get up, get dressed, maybe they're still waiting for us. Move. What time is it? Oh fuck. Pack. You need to pack. Now!”  


“Puck.” Brahms struggled to sit upright, gingerly cupping his injured gonads. “What's the matter?”  


“Your dad's sending the car back for us after it drops them off at the lake house. What time is it?!”  


“My father knows you're taking me away?” he asked, astonished.  


“No. I haven't got time to explain, we need to move!” She picked up her alarm clock and let out a cry of dismay. “Jesus Christ, it's nearly noon! What time did they leave, do you think?”  


Brahms still gaped at her, not moving. “I haven't slept until noon in my life.”  


“Brahms,” Puck said sharply. “We have to meet that car. Come on.”  


Finally, he leaped out of bed and started dressing. He was finished by the time Puck had her bag out, packing everything into it willy nilly. She decided not to get her toiletries, she could buy more once she was at her Dad's. She looked up as Brahms went dashing into her closet. She was relieved that he'd finally understood the gravity of the situation. She wished she could have told him last night what was up, that they'd had the wherewithal to pack their bags, but god she'd been so _tired_. Even now, running on adrenaline, she still felt a little groggy.  


When she had her bag zipped, she followed Brahms into the recesses of the house. He was just slipping his arms through a school boy's satchel as she entered the room.  


“We need to take your way out,” Puck told him. “Ben shouldn't see us.”  


“Okay,” Brahms agreed.  


They wove through the dark maze of the house's innards and Puck was too keyed up to dread the rats like she usually did. When they reached the basement, Brahms boosted her out of the window and slithered up after her. Then they grabbed each other's hand and went running.  


“Your dad said the car would be at the gate!” she called over her shoulder once the house was out of view. “God, I hope it's still there.”  


Brahms said nothing, just panted and held her hand tightly.  


When they got close to the gate, they both slowed. Neither of them saw a car.  


“Maybe it's on the other side?” Puck said hopefully.  


But when they got even closer and peered through the bars, there was no sign of a car anywhere.  


“Maybe they're running late?” Puck said, her voice sounding high and pinched.  


Brahms threaded his fingers through the bars, staring down the road. “Maybe. It takes two hours to get to the lake house. They would have left early, maybe at seven o'clock. Eight o'clock at the latest. What time is it now?”  


“A quarter after noon,” Puck said, glancing at her watch.  


“Okay.” He licked his lips. “They leave at eight. It's a two hour drive, but mum always has to use the restroom and dad doesn't like driving fast. So let's say they arrive at 10:30. They unpack the car. They offer the driver tea. Then the man leaves at say, eleven? So he wouldn't arrive here until one in the afternoon.”  


“So we wait until one?” Puck asked.  


“Maybe even one thirty,” Brahms said.  


With a heavy sigh, Puck dropped her bag to the ground and sat on top of it. Brahms leaned against the gate, using his satchel as a cushion. Neither of them spoke anymore.  


They waited until three p.m.  


“I don't think anyone's coming,” Brahms whispered.  


Puck rubbed her eyes. “No. Let's get back to the house. I'll call Tony.”  


Glumly, they collected their things and trudged home.

~*~

When Puck opened her bedroom door, Ben practically swooped on her. She cringed back before she could stop herself.  


“About time you woke up, sleepyhead!” he exclaimed.  


“I uh, haven't been sleeping well,” Puck said. “Did your aunt and uncle leave?”  


“Bright and early,” Ben confirmed. His face suddenly got serious. “I've got some bad news.”  


Her heart seized. “What is it?”  


“The rats got to the rest of the phone lines.”  


“Are you serious?!” Puck practically shrieked. “I need to call my family!”  


“I know,” he said soothingly. “I've already been into town and I'm having the exterminator and the repairman out here as soon as possible. While my aunt was packing this morning, she discovered a huge rat nest in her closet.”  


Puck nearly gagged. “Oh, nasty.”  


“I know. The smell alone.” Ben shuddered. “I've shut off that section of the house and put towels under the door. Don't go in there if you want to breathe clean air.”  


“I won't.” Puck shook her head, shuddering. “What do we do now?”  


“Wait,” said Ben grimly. “Would you like to come downstairs and get something to eat? You've been sleeping for ages.”  


Puck's stomach had been growling for the last hour so she agreed. They went down to the kitchen and had sandwiches and chips at the kitchen table. She hoped Ben wouldn't talk anymore. They hadn't said a word about his love confession and she hoped they could both ignore it and move on. She shuddered at the idea of him being in love with her. All she could picture in her mind was him handing Brahms the rock that took Emily Cribbs's life, an amiable smile on his face.  


“What did you want to do today?” Ben asked.  


“I wanted to go for a run,” Puck said, thinking. “I feel lazy and gross from sleeping all day.”  


“You needed it,” Ben said lightly. “I could tell how exhausted you've been.”  


“Thanks.”  


“I didn't mean that you looked bad. Just that you looked tired.”  


Puck sighed. “All right.”  


“Did you want company on your run?”  


“I'm sorry but not really.”  


“Are you sure?”  


“Positive.” She stood and took her plate to the sink to wash it. “Maybe another time? I'm just in a weird head space right now. I'm really afraid of rats and thinking of them overrunning the house is doing me in.”  


“I'm sorry,” Ben said. “I never should have brought you here.”  


Puck didn't agree or disagree. She put her plate away, told Ben that she'd see him later, and went upstairs to change. Once she was in her running clothes, she grabbed her phone and stuffed it in her sports bra.  


She ran the same path that she and Brahms had taken to the gate that morning. They had really hauled ass then but she went even faster now without being loaded down by her bag. She reached the gate in no time, pushed it open, and kept running down the road. The English countryside was beautiful, so lush and green, but she couldn't appreciate it. She was thinking about how far they were from the village. She couldn't remember the exact mileage but had assumed it was about ten, maybe even a little less. If she kept up her pace, she could stop in an hour and see if she had a signal on her phone yet.  


By the hour mark, Puck came to a sweating, panting stop and got her phone out of her damp bra. She looked at the screen hopefully. No service.  


With a sob of frustration, she started walking, watching the screen intently.  


Nothing. Nothing. Then...  


One bar.  


Whooping, Puck found Tony's number in her list of contacts and called. The phone rang three times and then, “Puck? Dude, Dad's been trying to reach you but--”  


“Tony, I need help,” Puck said. “Have Dad send a car to the house I'm staying, okay? He has the address.”  


But Tony was talking like she hadn't interrupted. “-- he can't get through. What's going on? Puck? Hello? Puck, can you hear me?”  


“I can hear you just fine but you can't hear me,” Puck wailed.  


“Look, if you can hear me, I'm gonna tell Dad you called, okay? Maybe try to text? I'm sorry.”  


Texting! Oh god, duh! She ended the call and texted “Have Dad send a car to this addy...” And hit send.  


It wouldn't send.  


“God damn it!” she screamed. She still had that one bar of service; why wouldn't it send? For the same reason Tony couldn't hear her. Her phone was broken. Defeated for the second time that day, Puck put her phone back into her bra and started back to the house, allowing the frustrated tears she'd been holding back to fall.  


Puck had until she got to the house to cry. Then she was going to buck up and face Brahms bravely so she didn't panic him. Until then, she gave it her all, sobbing and letting snot dribble out of her nose.

~*~

Brahms was crouched in Puck's closet when he heard her return. He opened the door and entered the room just as she locked her door. She began to undress and pulled her phone out of her bra, setting it on the dresser. Brahms was too anxious to enjoy the sight of Puck's breasts, even though her nipples were erect.  


“What did Tony say?” Brahms asked.  


Puck looked up at him with tired eyes. “Nothing. My phone's broken. He couldn't hear me and I can't send texts.” She crossed to the bathroom and Brahms followed her. “So that sucks. But I have another idea; I'll mail a letter to my parents. It's not as instant as a phone call but better than waiting around here and hoping for the best.”  


“My father should have envelopes and stamps in his office,” Brahms said.  


She exhaled a relieved breath. “Good, I was about to ask. I don't have any myself.” She turned on the shower and held a hand out to test the water's temperature. “Are you showering with me?”  


“Yes.” He started to undress. “Can you tell me what happened last night? You woke up in such a panic...”  


“Right.” Once they were both in the shower, Puck stood under the spray and started washing her hair. She told him all about the conversation with his father and the warning he'd given her. “So I'm thinking we over slept and missed the car.”  


“What about your phone?” Brahms asked. “What's wrong with it?”  


“I have no idea. I'm terrible with electronics. I've dropped this thing so many times, I'm amazed it took until now to break.” She gave him a sad smile but that faded when she got a look at Brahms's face. “What?”  


Brahms said slowly, “How often do you think Ben's been in your room?”  


She went still, hands still in her hair. “You think he did something to my phone?”  


“Well, let's consider it logically. The only people who've been in your room are you and me. My parents have never been in there. Who does that leave?”  


Puck frowned. “Why's he keeping me here?” Dawning comprehension creeped over her face and she whimpered, “Oh, no.”  


“What?” Brahms asked, reaching out for her when she wobbled in place.  


“Um, Ben told me that... he loves me.”  


Silence fell. For a moment, Brahms didn't trust himself to speak. Then he said quietly, “Why am I just now hearing about this?”  


Her cheeks flushed. “It only happened yesterday. It's not like I've been keeping this from you for weeks.”  


“Well, what did you say?” Brahms asked, his tone sounding harsh and angry even to his own ears.  


Puck met his gaze directly. “I said I didn't feel the same way.” She started to look worried. “And then he asked what it would take for me to change my mind. Oh god, do you think he's keeping me here so he can Stockholm syndrome me into loving him back?”  


“So what would it take?” Brahms asked. Anger and jealousy churned inside of him, threatening to overflow. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides, aching to punch something.  


“What?” Puck asked.  


“What would it take for you to change your mind?” Brahms demanded. “What did you tell Ben?”  


Puck looked down at his hands. “Oh my god, Brahms, you know he doesn't stand a chance, right? He can keep me here the rest of my life and the only man I'm ever going to love is you!”  


“I don't like it,” Brahms said brokenly. “I don't...” His rage was still way too overwhelming. He couldn't be in this enclosed space with her. He fumbled for the shower curtain to step out.  


“Brahms, wait!” Puck exclaimed.  


He didn't listen and ripped a towel off of the rack to sling around his waist. Then he strode out of the bathroom, headed for the closet. He heard Puck try to follow him but slip and fall in the bath. There was a loud crash and she cried out in pain.  


Immediately, all the anger went out of him and he rushed back to Puck's side. She was sitting in the tub crying, her head in her hands. The shower continued to dump water down on her weeping form. Brahms reached over and switched off the tap.  


“I'm sorry,” Brahms whispered.  


Puck dropped her hands and looked up at him with frantic, tear-filled eyes. “You can't do that!” she exclaimed. “You can't just storm off and ignore me when you're upset! You're all I have in this house! I have to know that I can count on you, that you aren't going to abandon me and leave me for _him_ to... to...”  


“You're right,” Brahms said quickly. “You're right, I'm sorry.”  


In a sad, trembling voice she said, “As if I'd ever choose him over you. Why did you think I would?”  


“I don't actually think you would,” Brahms said. He hesitated and looked away. “Not at first anyway.”  


“Excuse me?” she exclaimed.  


“He's very persuasive,” Brahms tried to explain. “My parents adored me but they always took his word over mine. He has this way of sounding so reasonable and he can twist a situation so you do what he wants while making you think it's your idea. I'm just saying--”  


Puck sniffled and said, “Get out.”  


“Puck...”  


“Get out,” she said again, more firmly. “I'm mad at you and I'm not talking about this anymore.”  


Angry, Brahms grit his teeth. “I thought we can't ignore each other when we're mad.”  


“I'm not ignoring you. I'm fucking furious with you right now and I'm telling you now that I need you to leave.” Her voice was trembling. “How dare you. How dare you act like I'm just one more idiot under his thrall. I know how he is, Brahms. He's the reason I don't have friends anymore. So fuck off to your room and maybe re-think giving me anymore condescending lectures.”  


“I wasn't trying to--”  


“Do I need to tell you again?!” Puck cried out, slamming both of her fists into the tub, making another loud crashing sound.  


There was a knock at her door. “Puck? Are you all right?”  


Brahms frantically looked over his shoulder. The door was locked, right? He stood and ran on the balls of his feet, completely silent and ducked into Puck's closet. Once he was through the secret door and in his inner sanctum his shoulders sagged and he slumped against the wall. He'd just let the girl he loved watch him scarper off like a coward. She was already angry with him and now she probably thought even less of him.  


_I'm a man now. Not a boy,_ he reminded himself. _If only I could start acting like it._

~*~

Puck's knee was already starting to bruise as she wrapped up in a towel and limped her way to the door. She opened it to Ben's worried face.  


“I'm okay,” she said at the same time he exclaimed, “Good God, what happened?!”  


“I slipped in the shower,” Puck said. It was a half truth but truthful enough that it didn't make her blush. She was finding ways around having to flat out lie. “I'm okay, though. I can still walk.”  


He looked down and said, “Your knee.”  


Puck shifted and winced. “Uh huh.”  


“I'll go get you some ice.”  


“Thanks,” Puck said but he was already leaving. Puck sighed and shut and locked her door again. She went to her dresser and picked out a sun dress that would be easy to slip on. She didn't feel like trying to tug any clothing over her tender knee. She didn't like how many injuries she was getting in this fucking house. Stupid Brahms. She wasn't so accident prone until she met him and now it was like she was the annoying protagonist in a romantic comedy who, tee hee, was so clumsy!  


Ben returned with the ice and he insisted on coming in and having her sit on the bed, before pressing the ice pack to her knee himself. He knelt and lightly rested a hand on her thigh, looking up into her face with concern.  


“I can bring dinner up for you later if you like,” he said. “So you don't have to try the stairs.”  


Oh, no, she couldn't waste time sitting around on her ass. She had to find the letter writing materials and get the word out to her parents. She forced a smile and shook her head, then reached out and firmly lifted his hand off of her thigh.  


“No, I shouldn't baby it. It's just a bruise, I doubt I even sprained anything.”  


“Well. If you think so,” Ben said doubtfully.  


Puck bit her tongue on something scathing and nodded instead. After hemming and hawing for a few more moments, Ben finally left her alone. Relieved, Puck adjusted the ice pack on her knee and thought of Brahms. She regretted yelling at him but damn it, he'd made her so angry. She was nothing like those stupid girls at school who'd fawned over Ben and told her that she was crazy for not going out with him, for not worshiping the ground he walked on. Both she and Brahms saw through his surface level charm to the darkness underneath. Well, Brahms saw through it. Puck had mostly just suspected the darkness was there but had chosen not to see it, following him to this house in the first place.  


A soft knock came from the closet door.  


“Yeah?” Puck called over. There was no answer. Ugh. Great. She hauled herself up and limped to the closet. “Brahms, listen--”  


He wasn't there when she opened the door. She frowned and pushed the hanging clothing aside but he wasn't hiding behind them. When she took a step forward, something cool and dry adhered to her foot.  


“Shit,” she muttered and looked down. She'd walked right into a stack of paper, envelopes and a book of stamps. There was even a fountain pen included on top of the pile that almost touched her big toe.  


Laughing lightly, she bent and scooped everything up. “You sweet, infuriating man of mine,” she said affectionately and closed the door.


	17. Something Special

When Tony Goodfellow reluctantly hung up the phone after he couldn't hear Puck on the line, he set his phone on his bedside table and waited for the incoming text. He ruffled his hair while he waited and exhaled an impatient breath. Of course she'd call at like 8 in the morning. He'd only gotten into bed about four hours ago. Puck was always the one who forgot about time zones, who'd talk over your protests with, “Yeah, yeah, but come on, you're not gonna believe what happened!” And then she'd tell you a funny or awesome story that was almost worth getting woken up for.  


Okay, it was always worth it.  


When fifteen minutes passed and Puck didn't text, Tony finally let himself start to worry. He picked up the phone and texted “????” to Puck but got no reply.  


“Fuck,” he muttered and called his dad. He prepared himself for the message he'd have to leave but was startled when his dad picked up after one and a half rings.  


“Robin?” his dad said urgently.  


“Nope, it's Tony.”  


“Oh. Hi, son. Have you by chance heard from your sister?”  


Tony sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Not quite.”  


“Well, if you hear from her, could you--”  


“Would you hold up for a second?” Tony snapped. “Don't try to rush me off the phone. God.”  


“I wasn't trying to rush you off the phone,” his dad said in that irritating _look at me being so reasonable_ tone he excelled at. “But I'm at work, Anthony, and I really do need to--”  


“Look, whatever member of the royal family getting a nose job can wait a few seconds. We've got a problem, Dad.” Tony felt his face crumble but did his best to pull it together. “I think Puck's in trouble.”  


His dad cleared his throat and then said lowly, “I think so, too.”  


“Glad we're on the same page.” It was easy to fall back on sarcasm so long as it kept him from crying. “Look, did she leave an address for where she was going? She never told me, just that it was 'the country.'”  


There was a long pause and his dad said, “She did.”  


Tony waited awhile and when nothing else was forthcoming he said, “So, do you wanna share with the class or...?”  


“I... seem to have misplaced it.”  


Shutting his eyes tight, Tony pulled the phone away to hiss “Shit!” and then brought the phone back up to his ear. “You've misplaced it.”  


“I know she put it on the fridge,” his dad said a little defensively. “And I can't find it, now. It could have fallen off and then the housekeeper swept it up.”  


“Can you ask her?” Tony demanded, his voice rising with each word.  


“I've given her the next few weeks off. I've called her but she hasn't gotten back to me.”  


“Great,” Tony snapped. “Great. Okay. I'm coming out there and I'm gonna find her myself.”  


“How?” his dad asked, sounding so miserable and defeated that it mellowed some of Tony's rage.  


“I've got my ways. I'll call you when I'm on my way, okay?”  


“All right, Tony. If that's what you think is best.”  


“It's what I think is best. Bye.”  


“Goodbye To-”  


Tony disconnected and then got up out of bed, scooping up clothes while he dialed his mother. She answered immediately. “Hi, honey, now's not a good time.”  


“When is it ever?” he replied. She sucked in air to ream him but he talked over that. “Hey, could you possibly reschedule our trip to London for today? Maybe even tomorrow? It's gotta be soon.”  


His mother's tone was calm and deadly serious when she said, “This is about why we haven't heard from Puck, isn't it?”  


“Yeah,” Tony said and then let his face crumble this time.

~*~

After a miserable dinner with Ben, Puck retreated to her room with the excuse that she needed to rest her knee. He made some noise about escorting her up the stairs but she was able to brush him off, saying that she needed to prove to herself that she could do it on her own. So he'd let her but he'd stood at the foot of the stairs and watched her the whole way which she guessed was supposed to be comforting but mostly was just unpleasant. Once she was shut up in her room, she changed for bed and got settled with the writing things Brahms had gotten for her. She wrote a letter to her mom in America and to her Dad in London and then sealed them up and addressed them, pressing the stamps in the corners. There was only one stamp left in the little book when she was done, so she only had one other attempt to reach out if both of her parents failed her. She looked around for a place to hide her letters. If Ben was still snooping through her room, she couldn't let him find this stuff.  


 _Under the mattress is the first place everyone looks_ , Puck thought when she glanced at her bed. The underwear drawer wasn't any good either; creeps like Ben probably looked through there for funsies even if they weren't searching for something. She went into the bathroom and looked under the sink. Her plastic bag of menstrual pads was the best place. No guy would ever look there. Once everything was safely stashed away, Puck breathed a little easier. When she went on a her walk ( _more like hobble_ Puck thought grimly) tomorrow, she'd mail the letters off. Then she'd have to sit back and wait.  


Puck slowly lowered herself onto the bed and looked at the closet door. She really missed Brahms. She hadn't even known him that long, barely knew anything about him really, but he'd become so integral to her stay here. Without him, she'd be climbing the walls and screaming. He gave her something to focus on, gave her a reason to smile. She hadn't done a lot of smiling throughout the school year. It felt good to discover that she still knew how.  


Deciding it was time to make nice, Puck got up and made her way carefully to the closet, her knee only protesting a little. She cracked open the door and then the secret door. The thought of the rats scared her so she didn't quite have the courage to actually enter. Maybe if she left the door open, Brahms would sort of wander over. In the mean time, Puck picked up one of her running shoes and was prepared to fling it at any rodents who tried to invade her space.  


After a few minutes, Brahms appeared in the doorway. He was so quick and silent; one moment the closet was empty and then Puck blinked and there he was. She jolted and dropped the running shoe to the floor where it landed with a soft thud on the carpet. Her heart hurt when Brahms flinched. Did he really think she'd throw her shoe at him?  


“Hi,” she said quietly.  


“Hello,” he replied. He glanced away from her to the window and asked, “Did you write your letters?”  


Puck nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for getting the stuff for me.”  


“You're welcome.”  


They were both quiet for a long time. Brahms continued to look out the window, avoiding her eyes, no matter how much Puck stared at him and practically willed him to look at her. She sighed and wondered why she'd bothered opening the door.  


“Well, good night,” Puck said and pulled her covers back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn to leave. Then she heard the faintest little sniffle. Was he...? “Brahms?” she said softly.  


“Yeah?” he answered, his voice sounding thick and watery.  


Oh god, he _was_ crying. Puck bit her lip. “Honey? Are you okay?”  


“I just...” He cleared his throat. “I'm fine. I just don't want you to be mad at me anymore.” On “mad” his voice cracked.  


“I'm not mad anymore,” Puck said. “Come here.”  


Brahms rubbed his face with the back of his arm and took a deep breath before turning to face her. He shuffled over to the bed and sat down on the edge, his shoulders hunched. Puck awkwardly dragged herself over to him, wincing at the pressure this put on her knee. She snuggled up against his side and rubbed her cheek on his shoulder.  


“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” Puck said. “I was stressed out and I wasn't in the right head space when you got jealous. I should have handled it better. I'm sorry.”  


Brahms rubbed at the wrist of one hand and stared at his palm. “I'm sorry I got jealous. He made Emily fall in love with him and then he'd laugh at her behind her back when she did little things to make him happy. Like making sure he got the largest biscuit at tea time or giving him her favorite matchbox car. He took the car and smashed it on the back porch once she'd gone home. He called her a foolish girl who was too pathetic to feel embarrassed for.”  


“God he sucks,” Puck said with feeling, surprising Brahms into looking up at her. His eyes were bloodshot. He'd probably done more crying that what she'd witnessed today. “You don't have to worry for one second that he'll trick me, too. When he told me he loved me, I wasn't even kind of tempted. I looked like this.” She grimaced widely, which succeeded in making him laugh. “Seriously! I was horrified.”  


Brahms smiled at her. “I'm sure you were.”  


“Now, there's this other boy I know,” Puck said softly. She reached over and pushed his curls back off his forehead. “When he tells me he loves me, I feel warm all over.”  


“Do you?” Brahms looked intently into her eyes.  


Puck nodded, feeling her face heat. This feeling was so new to her, she wasn't sure how to articulate it but she knew she needed to say it, that Brahms needed to hear it. “It's like this moment of, I don't know, calm? Like when it's winter and you know it's freezing cold outside but you're tucked all snug in bed. When he tells me he loves me, I feel like that cold isn't ever going to reach me. I'm safe. Does that make sense?”  


Brahms's green eyes never left hers for a moment. “Perfectly.”  


“No one's ever made me feel that way before. Not anyone who wasn't family, anyway. I didn't know romantic love was like this, I thought it was supposed to be butterflies.” She cupped his burned face in her hand and her heart leapt when he didn't flinch. “I want you safe by my side, I don't want you to ever feel lonely and afraid ever again. I want... I want you out of the cold and in the warm bed with me.”  


“Puck,” he breathed and leaned forward, kissing her cheek with this feather light touch that gave her goosebumps all over. “You're such a lovely girl.”  


She let her hand drift away from his cheek to the back of his head, her fingers sinking into the thick soft curls. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”  


“I want to stay with you every night.”  


She swallowed and whispered, “Shut off the light and come back, then.”  


“Okay.” He kissed her other cheek and then stood. With his back turned, she started to tug her sleep shirt up and off. By the time he'd finished her instructions, she was nude and under the covers. When he joined her, his breath caught in his throat at finding her so but she pushed him onto his back and opened his trousers.  


“This is for you,” Puck murmured. “Don't worry about me.”  


His cock was mostly erect. “What are you-- _oh_.” When her tongue swept over the head, licking at the slit where he leaked pre cum, he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, hips bucking upward. She let out a muffled exclamation but when he began to apologize, she silenced him by stroking his hip bone and then engulfed his cock in her mouth.  


Puck had never liked giving head, had never thought she was all that good at it. But now, with Brahms, she focused on what she was doing and really wanted it to be good for him. In the past, this act had always been a means to an end; get the guy hard so you could have sex. Or go down on him so he'll quit whining that you haven't gone down on him in forever. She actually found herself enjoying what she was doing, listening to Brahms's ragged breathing, feeling his thighs tense as she took his cock into her mouth and bobbed up and down. Well, as much as she could manage. Her hand stroked what couldn't fit in her mouth and she guessed he liked that well enough because through his panting he let out breathy little “yeahs” and “oh please” as well as whispering her name with such reverence that she attempted to deep throat him a couple of times even though it made her eyes water and her gag reflex protest.  


Just as she was contemplating whether he would like her playing with his balls, his bucking hips got more urgent and his hands suddenly gripped her hair, almost painful. Brahms let out a low moan through clenched teeth and came in her mouth. She flinched at the gross flavor but swallowed it before she thought too hard about what she was doing.  


Puck let his cock slip from her lips and gave the tip one last kiss. She felt Brahms shiver at that and he whispered, “Darling.” She laid down next to him and he immediately gathered her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.  


“I can taste me in your mouth,” he said and the wonder in his tone managed to arouse her as well as make her smile in amusement.  


“Is that okay?” Puck asked a little disingenuously. He answered her by immediately kissing her again.  


“What do you need, love?” Brahms asked as his tongue caressed hers. “Tell me and I'll do it for you, I swear.”  


She smiled and nipped his earlobe lightly before whispering, “You have such nice, long fingers...”  


“Mmmm.” He slid his hand between her thighs. “All the better to finger you with my dear.”  


Puck couldn't help it and started to giggle, even as his middle finger penetrated her. “Oh my god, that's a terrible line.”  


“I should shut my mouth then,” Brahms said matter of factly. “And I should shut it riiiiight-” his mouth closed over her left nipple and gave a long, slow suck that made Puck shudder all over. “--here,” he said around her sensitive nipple.  


She closed her eyes, lost in the sensation of his finger working inside of her, his warm tongue rubbing her nipple in soft, possessive licks she could feel in every nerve ending of her body. He added a second finger and she gasped, her head lolling on the pillow. He switched to her other breast, greedily sucking harder as she got more vocal, exhaling his name shakily with every thrust of his fingers inside of her. Then he added a third finger and Puck quickly clapped a hand to her mouth to hold in the wail she nearly released. Nothing could spoil this moment worse than Ben appearing at her door and asking if she was all right.  


The thought of Ben almost dampened her desire but she worked hard to put him out of her mind. She wanted, no, needed to come and she was so close so so close....  


“What do you need?” Brahms whispered. “Tell me.”  


Puck cupped the back of his head and guided it back to her breast. “You're doing fine. I'm nearly there.”  


“Hmmm.” Brahms sucked at her nipple some more and then drew back a little to experimentally tickle a teasingly light touch on just the tip. That ended up being what pushed her over the edge and she choked out a cry as she came hard, her pussy clamping again and again around his fingers which he still pumped steadily within her until she sagged backwards, a sweaty and satisfied mess.  


Brahms cuddled her into his arms, kissing her forehead. “Tired now, darling?”  


“Uh huh.” Puck pressed her face into his neck. “God, I love you.”  


“I love you, too.”  


“When we get out of here, you can have anal once a week if you want. I swear. I'll put it in writing if I need to.”  


Chuckling, Brahms kissed her forehead. “You seem quite intent that we do this particular thing I've never thought about before.”  


“I just want you to only want me,” Puck said, still letting herself be vulnerable. “I don't want you to go to someone else for what you want.”  


“You're all that I want,” Brahms said with feeling.  


“You're all that I want, too,” Puck answered in kind.  


Exhausted after their trying day, they each slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep. They never let go of each other the whole night.

~*~

The next morning the sky was dark and rain pelted down in sheets, the wind roaring. A summer storm, something Puck definitely shouldn't be out in, even though she wanted to mail her letters. She sat up in bed and stared out the window, sulking.  


Brahms rose up beside her and sighed. “I don't think you should--”  


“I'm not.”  


“Oh.” Brahms traced a finger down her shoulder. “I'm sorry, love.”  


Puck wanted to shrug him off and be left alone for awhile but then she remembered last night and how much nicer things were when she didn't give in to the meaner part of her nature. She instead turned to look into those pretty green eyes of his and was instantly rewarded when he smiled.  


“What?” she asked, starting to smile herself.  


“I know it's not your first choice, but I have a plan for how we should spend our day.”  


Her disappointment was already fading as she prompted him, “Oh?”  


“First, let's take a bath.”  


Puck made a face. “Really? A bath? But they're so gross, sitting around in your filth.”  


Brahms made a face right back that sent her giggling. “Sure, it would be if you rolled in mud every day but you don't. There will be minimal filth.”  


“Are you gonna light candles?” Puck teased.  


“No,” he said seriously. “I don't really like fire.”  


Oh god. Of course he didn't. She winced. “I'm sorry.”  


But he only lightly kissed her forehead and urged her up and out of bed. He got a hot bath running and once they were settled in the water, she resting against his chest, she decided that maybe baths weren't quite as bad as she thought.  


Brahms kissed along her neck, tracing a finger down her arm. “How did you spend rainy days at home?”  


“Hmmm?” Puck said dreamily. He laughed and she liked feeling it in his chest. When he repeated the question, she considered her answer for a few moments. “Well, if a rainy day happened on a week day, I still had to go to school and work and all that crap. But if it rained on a weekend, we'd usually make popcorn and watch movies. My favorite was The Secret Garden but with three brothers it usually got voted down. That was more of a comfort movie anyway, not really appropriate for Movie Day.”  


Brahms nuzzled her gently. “How do you mean?”  


Puck was quiet, lost in her memories. Then she said, “I was nine when my parents divorced. Suddenly my dad wasn't around anymore and my mom was working all the time. I kind of just withdrew into myself. I spent every afternoon laying on the floor wrapped up in my Aladdin sleeping bag and watched The Secret Garden over and over. The babysitter let me since I was at least being quiet. Tony would come in to watch it with me sometimes. He'd never admit he likes that movie, though. He calls it Puck's Depression Movie. But it didn't make me depressed, I swear. It made me happy thinking of a pretty place in the world where flowers could bloom and children who were ignored and abandoned could thrive. So I guess if I was home right now, I'd want to curl up in bed with you and watch The Secret Garden.”  


“I've never seen it,” Brahms whispered.  


“It's based on a book. Maybe you read it?” She looked over her shoulder at him and he shook his head. “Ah. Well, it's about this little girl named Mary who's orphaned and goes to live at her uncle's estate in Yorkshire. She's kind of an asshole in the beginning but she meets this boy named Dickon who's super into nature and shit and the two of them take over this abandoned garden on the grounds. She finds her cousin Colin who's been hidden away somewhere in the house--” She suddenly cut herself off and then laughed, shocked. “Holy shit. I think I know why I fell in love with you instantly.”  


“Why?” Brahms asked, puzzled.  


Puck shook her head and laughed. “I had a huge crush on Colin Craven.”  


“Oh,” Brahms said, not really getting it.  


Laughing again, Puck sat up. “The water's getting kind of cold. Should we move on to what you have planned next on our rainy day?”  


Brahms eagerly pulled out the bath stopper and admired her with warm eyes as she got out of the tub and wrapped up in a fluffy white towel. He took the one she extended to him. “Well, maybe you should go downstairs and have breakfast first. Tell Ben that you plan to explore the attic.”  


“The attic?” Puck asked, surprised.  


“I'll meet you up there when you're done,” Brahms said. He patted himself dry and then slung the towel around his waist.  


Puck watched him as she started to dry herself. “I'd rather have breakfast with you.”  


“We will someday,” Brahms said. He gave her his sparkly, crinkle-eyed smile on his way out of the room. “I promise.”

~*~

Ben was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands when Puck came in the room. It put her on edge, especially when she noticed how his knee kept bouncing up and down quickly making a dull repetitive thudding sound where it hit the table.  


“Are you okay?” Puck asked.  


He bolted upright, eyes crazed. “What?! Yes! Fine!”  


Puck stared at him. “You sure?”  


For a moment, Ben stared back at her with something like... fear? Horror? Then that look melted and his knee stopped bouncing. Lightly, he said, “I'm fine. Well. I'll be fine once those exterminators come. I saw a rat in my room this morning and it gave me a turn.”  


“Oh god! I'll bet it did.” Puck shuddered and opened the breadbox. She thought she'd just have toast and fruit so she could hurry back up to Brahms. “Um, do you think they're in the attic?”  


“Who?” Ben asked and then scoffed at himself. “The rats. I don't know. I don't see why not. Why? Have you heard them?”  


“No,” Puck said. “I was thinking of going up in the attic later.”  


Ben gave her a confused look. “Why?”  


_Good question_. Puck only shrugged. “Something to do, I guess.”  


“Oh. Well, have at it, I suppose.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and stared off into space. The bowl in front of him was full of porridge that he couldn't have eaten very much of. “Puck,” he said suddenly.  


She paused while putting slices of bread into the toaster. “Hmm?”  


Ben opened his mouth and then said, “Nothing. Never mind.” He stood and walked his bowl to the sink where he scraped everything down the drain and turned on the garbage disposal. “I'll be in the library if you need me.”  


Puck watched him stride from the room and didn't really understand the unease that started to curl up in her belly.

~*~

When she'd washed her dish and put it away, Puck carefully made her way back upstairs. Brahms had told her where to find the hook to reach the attic door and she retrieved it from its spot in the hall closet. She got the door open easily and then walked up the rickety stairs to the attic.  


Brahms was sitting on a trunk, the radio next to him. He'd been slouching but perked up when he saw her come in. “Hi.”  


“Hey.” She paused in front of him. “So what are we doing up here?”  


“Hold on.” He switched on the radio and turned the volume up. “We have to leave the door open. This is to cover the sound of us speaking in case Ben's downstairs.”  


“He's down in the library. I don't think he can hear us on the first floor.”  


“Well, just to be on the safe side.” He stood up and looked so boyishly eager that Puck couldn't help but smile. “So! Remember when my mother suggested you go through all the old clothes up here so you can make costumes?”  


Puck gasped. “Is that what we're gonna do?!”  


“Yes!” he exclaimed.  


She clapped her hands. “Oh, that's so cool! There's gotta be... I don't know, hundreds of possibilities up here in a house this old! I might even be able to make an outfit for you, too.”  


“That's sweet of you.” Brahms kissed her cheek lightly. “Let's start looking.”  


They split up and began sorting through trunks. Right away, Puck found lots of garments that showed promise. She made a stack of them beside her and after an hour had a nice sized pile. Brahms had seemed to only find trunks of books and now sort of sat inside one, leafing through some old tome as he swung one leg up and down in a lazy, unhurried fashion. He looked unearthly in the gray light shining in through the windows.  


The radio went quiet after a particularly loud, annoying commercial and she could hear the rain pattering on the roof. It wasn't quite as violent as it had been that morning but it had only let up slightly. The rain slapped on the window as well in sharper counterpoint. It felt like the weather was weaving a spell around them and Puck sat back to see what would happen.  


The next song started on the radio, a song she remembered from her childhood. To her surprise, Brahms's head shot up with a look of bright joy. He sought out her eyes and then dropped the book he was holding, making his way to her.  


_Whispering our goodbyes, waiting for the train_  
_I was dancing with my baby in the summer rain_  
_I could hear him saying “nothing would change, come dance with me baby in the summer rain”_  
_I remember the rain on his skin and his kisses hotter than the Santa Ana winds_  
_Whispering our goodbyes, waiting for the train_  
_I was dancing with my baby in the summer rain_

Brahms grabbed her hand and pulled her to him and, shock of shocks, started to dance her around the room. She somehow hadn't thought he could dance but he was doing some pretty elementary ballroom steps she had no trouble following. Her knee didn't even hurt and she was glad; he looked so much more animated than she'd seen him before and she'd hate to ruin the moment by wincing or hissing in pain.  


_I remember laughing til we almost cried_  
_There at the station that night_  
_I remember looking in his eyes_  


He started to sing along softly and her mind raced. How did he know this song? He didn't know contemporary music, he was all about classical. What year had this come out? Puck's mind spun trying to figure it out and then he twirled her under his raised arm and she couldn't help the peal of laughter she let out, how high and girlish it sounded.  


_Oh my love it's you that I dream of_  
_Oh my love since that day_  
_Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain_  
_Doesn't matter what I do now_  
_Doesn't matter what I say_  
_Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain_  


“How?” Puck asked breathlessly.  


“Shhhh,” Brahms said, his eyes sparkling.  


_I can hear the whistle, military train_  
_I was dancing with my baby in the summer rain_  
_I could hear him singing “oooh love is strange, come dance with me baby in the summer rain”_  
_I remember the rain pouring down and we poured our hearts out as the train pulled out_  
_I can see my baby waving from the train_  
_It was the last time that I saw him in the summer rain_  


Puck joined him in the chorus though she kept giggling and didn't sound as good as he did, stumbling along with his dancing as he spun them around and around with the intense guitar buildup of the song.  


_Oh my love it's you that I dream of_  
_Oh my love since that day_  
_Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain_  
_Doesn't matter what I do now_  
_Doesn't matter what I say_  
_Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain_  


Brahms pressed a kiss to Puck's forehead and murmured the next part against her skin and she felt shivers go all up and down her back. She'd never danced like this with anyone before; her boyfriend had just left his hands limply at her waist when they danced at school events, a bored look on his face as he scanned the room for something or someone more interesting to engage with.  


_Every time I see the lightning_  
_Every time I hear the thunder_  
_Every time I close the window_  
_When this happens in the summer_  
_Oh the night is so inviting_  
_I can feel that you were so close_  
_I can feel you when the wind blows_  
_Blows right through my heart_  


Brahms lifted her up and twirled her then lowered her to her feet, holding her close to his chest as they mostly just swayed for the last part of the song.  


_Oh my love it's you that I dream of_  
_Oh my love since that day_  
_Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer night_  
_Every night and every day now_  
_Though I know you've gone away_  
_Somewhere in my heart I'm always dancing with you in the summer rain_  


The song faded out and the dj came on, sounding confused and apologizing for the technical difficulties. Puck drew back to look up into Brahms's face, opening her mouth to ask him again.  


“After the fire,” Brahms said with no further prompting, “my parents kept me up here when the workers came to rebuild parts of this house. They'd bring a radio with them and I hated most of the music, what little of it I could hear. It seemed insult to injury at the time, up here in pain and having to listen to rubbish that only upset me. But one day I heard this song. Her voice drifts up here so much better than most of the male groups that were popular at the time. It became my favorite and the station played it quite often. It was a little bit of happiness during a miserable time.”  


Puck didn't know what to say so she said it by kissing him over and over, running her fingers through his hair. The weather continued to rage outside and drowned out the radio's burbling so all she was aware of was Brahms, herself, and the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are Summer Rain by Belinda Carlisle. The song's a total cheese-fest but sometimes you need some cheese. Right? Right.


	18. Keep You On Ice So I Can Show All My Friends

“Would you like something to drink,sir?” The flight attendant smiled warmly at Tony. She was older than him but not by a whole lot and had shiny red lips that drew his attention immediately. At any other time, he'd be pressing the button for assistance often to get her attention and flirt until he could get her phone number. But here he was in coach sat between his two younger brothers, Johnny staring moodily out the window and Liam using Tony's shoulder as a pillow as he snored and drooled. His sister was missing and nothing could really distract him from the leaden feeling in his gut, no matter how full and shiny a twenty-something flight attendant's lips were.  


“Just some water, thanks.” He glanced at the top of Liam's head. “And a Coke for Sleeping Beauty here.”  


The flight attendant gave him an amused look and then handed over the drinks. “And you, sir?”  


Johnny barely looked at her and shook his head.  


When she moved on to the row in front of them, Tony hissed, “Dude, don't be a dick, okay?”  


“I wasn't a dick,” Johnny muttered.  


“You were.”  


“I wasn't.”  


“Johnny, come on.”  


“Unnnhhhh,” Liam groaned, stirred from sleep. “Shut up, assholes!”  


“Okay, I know we're worried about Puck but we can't keep acting shitty,” Tony said, trying to sound stern.  


Liam lifted his head and opened his eyes to glare at him. “You've been shitty before Puck even went missing.”  


“She isn't missing,” Johnny snapped. “We just don't know where she is right now.”  


“That sounds like missing to me,” Liam replied.  


Tony held up his hands. “This is exactly what I'm talking about. This has to stop. We gotta start being cool.”  


“Good luck,” Johnny and Liam said and then started laughing.  


Sighing, Tony rubbed his face. He didn't know how Puck handled being the oldest. Stepping in as the oldest Goodfellow when she left for school last fall had been rough. Tony had been catching shit from Johnny all along but Liam in particular hated the changes and was slamming doors and yelling obscenities when he'd never done anything like that before. They were falling apart without Puck. If they found her-- when they found her-- Tony was going to convince her to come back to the States for school.  


“I shouldn't have brought you guys with me,” Tony muttered.  


“You didn't bring us,” Liam said. “We came along.”  


“After you bitched and moaned to Mom first,” Tony replied.  


“Puck's our sister, too, Tony,” Johnny snapped.  


“And?” Tony said right back. “I'm the adult, here.”  


“God, that's scary,” Liam piped up.  


Tony had to laugh. “Yeah, I know. I just don't want you guys in my way.”  


“We never get in the way,” Liam said, clearly offended.  


“Uh huh.” Tony gave his little brother a skeptical look. Before the little shit could complain more, Tony quickly said, “Look, I've got it all planned out, okay? I have some ideas on how to track down where Puck was staying. In the mean time, I need you to keep Dad occupied. He's pretty upset.”  


Johnny snorted. “He should be. It's his fault Puck's missing.”  


Tony thought back to one of the last conversations he had with Puck. His guts twisted as he recalled saying, “God, why can't you just give the guy a chance? You're being really uptight about someone whose only crime is that he wants to date you. You should feel flattered.” She hadn't felt flattered, she'd felt uncomfortable and then she'd gone off to this guy's house and no one had heard from her since. She'd ignored her gut instinct because he'd told her to.  


“This isn't just on Dad,” Tony said quietly. His brothers gave him confused and worried looks. They were little pukes but he didn't want them feeling confused and worried. He reached into the seat pocket in front of him and pulled out a plastic package of crappy headphones. “Let's watch the movie, okay?”  


“But it's America's Sweethearts,” Liam whined.  


“Catherine Zeta Jones is hot. Just watch it.”  


Liam grumbled but put on the headphones to watch the in-flight movie. Sure, the movie was shit, but it would distract them for a bit. It would be a couple of hours where they couldn't voice any more worries about Puck or snipe at one another. It was time to chill and they needed it. A lot.  


Tony hoped his sister was okay, wherever she was.

~*~

When Puck left him for dinner, Brahms made an impulse decision to sneak down to the library. He'd been planning on spending the night in his room with Puck, reading her book of fairy tales to her, but then he thought they might actually have a copy of The Secret Garden. When he was little, his parents had bought lots of beautiful hardback copies of children's classics and he thought that The Secret Garden might be one of them.  


He could hear Puck and Ben speaking in the kitchen as he passed through the walls. Their voices were too low to make any words out so he moved along swiftly to the library. He pushed a panel in the wall that opened onto the room and then just barely held in a gasp.  


Books were strewn all over the floor. Drawers had been yanked open, the contents dumped onto the carpet. What the hell had happened? He and Puck had been up in the attic all day so the mayhem could only have been caused by Ben. What on earth had he been looking for?  


Brahms took a few hesitant steps into the room. How was he going to find The Secret Garden in this mess? He stared helplessly around and then spotted the bright red cover of Huckleberry Finn, still on one of the lower shelves. With relief, he saw that that shelf was mostly untouched and full of the classics he remembered running his fingers over as a little boy, trying to decide what he wanted read to him before bed.  


The Secret Garden was there, still pristine, since he'd never so much as cracked it open. With relief, he plucked it from its spot between Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz and then sneaked back into the wall. He managed not to ruffle any of the books thrown haphazardly on the floor.  


_The man's demented_ , Brahms thought as he put the wall panel back in place.

~*~

Puck dreamily walked the path to the front gate, smiling up at the sunshine that broke through the clouds. Ben had still been asleep when she'd woken, so she decided to get her walk out of the way early and mail her letters. He'd never even know she was out which was for the best. The warm air fluttered her hair and she let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.  


They'd spent last night in Brahms's room. He'd found The Secret Garden in the library and wanted to read it to her; the quietest place to do so was in his sound-proof room. So they'd curled up together on his bed, his chest pressed to her back, and he'd begun reading. His low, soft voice whispering long familiar words in her ear had worked wonders for her stress and anxiety and she'd drifted to sleep when Mary and Mrs. Medlock were driving across the moors to Misselthwaite Manor.  


As Puck approached the gate, she saw an old clunker parked not far away. She staggered to a halt, staring in disbelief. Was it someone she could bum a ride off of? Would they wait long enough for her to run back to the house for her things and for Brahms?  


“Hello?” Puck called, pulling open the gates that moaned creakily.  


At first there was no reply. She didn't see anyone in the car and looked all around her. A rustling off in the bushes made her whip her head around and then suddenly an old lady clutching a basket emerged from the growth. It took Puck a moment to recognize her.  


It was Malcolm's grandmother.  


“Oh,” Puck said. “Good morning.”  


The old lady tipped her head to the side, like she was trying to hear something at a distance. “Hello, young lady. Enjoying the weather?”  


“I am.” Puck felt foolish. She wanted to ask for help but what had Ben done to her, really? He wasn't really keeping her prisoner, it just felt like he was. “What are you doing all the way out here? If you don't mind me asking.”  


The woman came closer and showed Puck her basket. It was full of mushrooms and herbs. “The best things grow out here. The Heelshires don't own this land so anyone is free to take what they like.”  


Puck quickly said, “Oh no, I wasn't thinking you were trespassing, it's just you're the first person I've seen in ages who isn't related to the family.”  


“He's got you on a tight leash, hasn't he?” the woman said flatly. She nodded over Puck's shoulder.  


Just like that, her good mood was gone. She slowly turned her head and saw a distant figure coming toward them. It wasn't Brahms. Puck looked down at herself in a tank top and running shorts. No pockets. She faced the old woman again and handed her letters to her with shaking fingers. “I'm sorry, I hate to ask, but could you mail these for me?”  


“The post box is right--”  


“Please,” Puck begged. “I don't want him to see me with these.”  


The old woman searched her face for a moment and then took them, tucking them away in her baggy cardigan's pocket. In the trade off, the woman slipped Puck a hard caramel candy. “In case he just saw us exchanging something,” she said in explanation.  


“Thank you,” Puck whispered.  


Ben was jogging now and reached the opened gate in no time. “Well!” he exclaimed, panting and grinning. “What's this, then?”  


“Hello, Benjamin,” Malcolm's grandmother said coldly.  


“Good morning, Mrs. Price,” Ben replied with a bright smile. “Gathering ingredients for your spells, are you?”  


Puck turned and frowned at him. “What?”  


Ben winked at her, coming up alongside her. “Oh, you haven't heard? Mrs. Price is a witch. Or so they say. We used to run across the road when we saw her coming along with her basket. It was all in good fun though, wasn't it, Mrs. P?”  


“For some, perhaps,” she said, staring daggers at Ben.  


“Thank you for the candy,” Puck said deliberately, holding up the caramel. “It should help my sugar craving a little.”  


“Why don't you bring the girl into town, Benjamin?” Mrs. Price asked, her tone flat. “It's almost as if you're keeping her prisoner.”  


Ben laughed and nudged Puck's shoulder chummily. “Oh, yes, I've got her on bread and water rations for the next month.” He took a few steps back and then walked casually to the post box. He opened it and seemed satisfied to find it empty. “Ah, good. I promised my aunt and uncle I'd bring in the mail but I didn't leave the house yesterday during that downpour. I'm glad nothing soaked out here.”  


Neither of the women responded to this but they continued to watch Ben with wary eyes.  


“Have you had breakfast yet, Puck?” He nodded to her hand. “One piece of candy's hardly going to fill you up.”  


“I haven't eaten yet,” Puck said. She turned back to the woman. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Price.”  


“And you, Puck,” the old woman replied.  


“Robin Goodfellow,” she said impulsively. “Puck's only a nickname.”  


Mrs. Price nodded. “Miss Goodfellow.”  


Puck didn't want to leave but Ben was standing at the gate, holding onto it with a performative air of patience. The set of his shoulders belied his true feeling, that he wanted her to move her ass that instant so he could shut the gate on the old lady.  


When Puck joined him and the gate was shut, he waved jovially to Malcolm's grandmother and then jerked his head to indicate Puck should start walking. The gesture galled her and she wanted to kick him in the shins but she was too shaky from almost getting caught with the letters. She still wanted to claw at him somehow, so once they were out of earshot, Puck said, “You were really rude to that woman.”  


“That old bitch can fuck herself,” Ben said, startling her. The casual hatred in his tone twisted her stomach and she had no idea how she was going to tolerate breakfast with him.  


They walked the rest of the way to the house in silence.

~*~

Brahms was sketching a nude portrait of Puck from memory when she suddenly burst into his room, her face flushed and eyes teary. He sat up quickly from his sprawl on the bed and threw aside his sketchpad and pencil. Wordlessly, he opened his arms to her and she dove right into them, pressing her face into his collar.  


“Oh, god, honey, I almost screwed everything up for us!”  


“What?” Brahms asked, baffled.  


She explained the encounter with Mrs. Price and Brahms gradually loosened his hold on her, his eyes unfocusing as his mind worked, memories long dormant now flowing as vividly as if they'd happened yesterday.  


“Brahms?” Puck gently shook his shoulder. “What? Are you okay?”  


He slowly shook his head and then said, “He said she was a witch?”  


“And a bitch,” Puck added, her mouth grimacing.  


“I'll admit Mrs. Price wasn't exactly friendly but 'bitch' is a little strong,” Brahms said. He thought back all those years when his mother and aunt would take he and Ben into town. The other children they'd encounter had plenty of tales to share as they gravitated to Ben and snubbed Brahms. “As for being a witch, we joked about that a little but that wasn't the real rumor. Word around the village was that Mrs. Price used to be a medium.”  


Puck sat back, looking confused. “A medium?”  


“Someone who communicates with spirits,” Brahms said.  


“I know what a medium is.” Puck was starting to sound grouchy. She didn't like feeling as if she were being talked down to and he had to steer the conversation away from that direction as soon as possible before she got the wrong idea.  


“Of course,” Brahms agreed. “She hasn't performed any seances in years, though. People kept asking her, especially around Halloween.”  


Puck shivered. “That's so creepy.”  


“You thought I was a ghost once,” he said teasingly.  


“And it scared the shit out of me,” Puck reiterated. She ran her hands up and down her arms. His poor girl was well and truly spooked and he shouldn't poke fun anymore. The experience with Ben had truly riled her up so he casually picked up The Secret Garden.  


“Should I keep reading?”  


A relieved smile bloomed on her face, making his heart twist. “Yes, please.”  


Brahms laid down and waited until she'd settled against his chest before cracking the book open. He'd read until he was hoarse if it made her feel better.

~*~

Mrs. Price drove into town and pulled up beside a post box. She glanced at the girl's letters and saw one was addressed to London, the other to America. She'd put the correct postage on the international letter, bless her. She wished there was more she could have done for young Puck. She glanced at the passenger seat and said, “She's as pretty as you said, boy.”  


She mailed the letters and continued on her way home. With another glance at the passenger seat she said, “Yes, I think so, too. We'll wait and see. Not much longer now, I think.” Her gaze went steely as she stared forward through the windscreen. “He's not getting away with it. Not again.”


	19. Bad Boyfriend

When Brahms woke the next morning, Puck was gone. They'd spent the night in his room since Puck said she smelled something funny somewhere upstairs. He could smell it too, but it seemed to bother her more. She was convinced that it was the rats and once that idea was in her head, she couldn't be swayed from staying in his room with him. Not that he'd complain. The weather was warming up again and it was much more cool in the walls than in the house.  


Brahms sat up and ruffled his hair with both hands. She was probably taking a shower. He couldn't help the lecherous grin that spread across his face. He should go join her. Scrub her back, maybe do a little teasing and tickling... they hadn't had sex in awhile. He got out of bed and padded naked from the room, his erection bobbing as he went. He opened the closet's secret door and smiled when he could hear Puck singing as she always did when she showered alone.  


_The dream police they live inside of my head_  
_The dream police they come to me in my bed_  
_The dream police they're coming to arrest me, oh no_  


Smirking, Brahms opened the closet and then immediately stepped back and shut it, his smile dropping.  


Ben was in the room. He'd pulled every one of Puck's drawers open and was so occupied snooping that he hadn't noticed Brahms's near entrance. Heart thudding, Brahms felt his knees turn to water and his cock deflate.  


_You know that talk is cheap and those rumors ain't nice_  
_And when I fall asleep I don't think I'll survive_  
_The night_  
_The night_  


Puck had no idea, she was just singing away in the shower, getting into her performance. His stomach turned sour just thinking of her coming out of the bathroom and discovering Ben. What would he do to her? What if she turned the water off and heard Ben rummaging around and called out, thinking it was Brahms? Ben would know all about them, then.  


_Cuz they're waiting for me_  
_They're looking for me_  
_Every_  
_Single_  
_Night_  
_They're driving me insane_  
_Those men inside my brain_  


How could he warn her? He couldn't. There was no other way into the bathroom. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Maybe she wouldn't hear anything. Between the running water and her singing there was enough sound to drown out Ben even if he was tossing everything about with no regard to getting caught.  


_The dream police they live inside of my head_  
_The dream police they come to me in my bed_  
_The dream police they're coming to arrest me, oh no_  


What was he even doing in here? Brahms carefully cracked the closet door open a fraction and peered out through the narrowed space he'd allowed himself. Ben had set the drawers to rights and was rubbing his head, looking around the room. He spotted Puck's purse on the chair in the corner and he strode over, picking it up. To Brahms's shock, he dug inside and pulled out Puck's wallet.  


_Well I can't tell lies cuz they're listening to me_  
_And when I fall asleep bet they're spying on me_  
_Tonight_  
_Tonight_  
_Cuz they're waiting for me_  
_They're looking for me_  
_Every_  
_Single_  
_Night_  
_They're driving me insane_  
_Those men inside my brain_  


Ben must not have found what he wanted because he swore viciously and tossed her wallet back into her purse then dropped it back on the chair. He raked both hands over his face repeatedly while growling.  


_I try to sleep they're wide awake they won't let me alone_  
_They don't get paid to take vacations or let me alone_  
_They spy on me I try to hide they won't let me alone_  
_They persecute me they're a judge and jury all in one_  


For a moment he glared at the bathroom door and then took a step toward it. Brahms went cold. Oh god, if Ben forced his way into the bathroom, what could Brahms do? Could he save Puck? He'd have to. He should have burst out of the closet the moment he'd seen Ben in Puck's room and beaten the shit out of him for having the audacity to trespass in her space.  


Ben shook his head and then turned away from the bathroom. He strode over to the opened bedroom door and shut it behind him. He didn't lock it, meaning Puck must have forgotten to lock it the night before. He wanted to feel annoyed with her for being so sloppy but he had no room to be judging her. Not when he was a cowardly little boy huddling in the closet and fretting over the idea of his cousin attacking the love of his life. Would he have let it get to that point? What would it have taken for him to step in?  


“You stupid, craven little worm,” Brahms whispered with intense self loathing. He retreated back to his room to slip back into bed and pretend like he'd seen nothing.

~*~

Humming, Puck left the bathroom while pulling her hair into a ponytail. She was wearing her short flamingo dress, hoping that Brahms would like it. They hadn't done much more than kiss in a few days; she'd been so upset by the confrontation with Mrs. Price, she'd spent the day with Brahms in his room while she embroidered and he read from The Secret Garden. They'd finally reached the moment when Mary and Colin meet for the first time and ask one another if they're ghosts. Brahms had stopped reading, glanced over at Puck and murmured, “Oh, I see,” and then continued on with the story.  


She paused with the closet door open and slipped on some flip flops. If she was going to step on a rat, she'd prefer to have a barrier between them even if it was cheap cork. Puck continued on into the secret passage, still humming. It was kind of weird that Brahms hadn't gotten up by now. It wasn't like him to sleep in.  


Sure enough, she found him curled up in bed with his back to her. She stepped over lightly and got into bed beside him, sliding her arms around his middle.  


“Hi,” she said, kissing his shoulder lightly.  


“Hi,” he said, his voice tight.  


Concerned, Puck sat up to try to look at his face. His eyes were shut tight, his face pained. “Honey, are you okay?”  


“I've got a headache.”  


“Oh, no. Do you want me to go get something for you?” Puck asked. “Aspirin or...?”  


“I took something earlier.”  


Puck rubbed a circle on his back and sighed. “Poor Brahms. I'm sorry. It still hasn't taken effect yet?”  


“No.”  


“Then you should rest. I'll go get you a glass of water and then I'll leave you be. I can check in around lunch time and see if you feel up to eating anything.” Puck checked his face but he still had his eyes shut. The lights in the room were probably getting to him. “Do you want me to turn out your lights?”  


“Yes, please.”  


“Okay. I'll do that before I leave you. Hang on.” She grabbed his water glass off of his desk and dashed to her room where she filled the cup at the bathroom sink and then brought it back. She set it on the floor next to the bed. “Your water's down here when you want it. Feel better soon, honey.”  


“Thank you.”  


Pouting in sympathy, Puck knelt on the bed to give the back of his head a soft kiss. “I love you.”  


“Love you,” he murmured back, his throat working. Oh, boy, that must be some migraine if he was feeling nauseated. She moved a wastebasket close to the bed as well, just in case.  


Now she had the afternoon to herself. She didn't know where Ben was and she didn't care. She didn't see him in the kitchen when she went in for an apple which was a relief. The best way to avoid him and give Brahms some space was for her to go outside. She didn't feel much like taking a walk so she decided to take her embroidery out on the front porch and work there.  


Puck ducked upstairs for her hoop and supplies, grabbed a cushion off of one of the sofas, and then got settled on the porch. She was nearly finished with the embroidery of her mother's garden. She was planning to give it to her mom as a gift for her birthday in July. She worked for long, soothing minutes and didn't think of much of anything which was a relief. She'd been so worried and stressed the last few weeks, it was wonderful to just let it all go doing something she enjoyed. She would have rather been working on the clothes for Brahms but she'd need to take his measurements and he wasn't in any condition for that. She probably should have been working on the doll's wardrobe but she'd finished his spring and summer clothes and had sketched out his winter clothes which still needed to be approved by Mrs. Heelshire. So she was at a stalemate with that project. She was now able to work on her mother's present guilt free.  


The sound of an engine pulled Puck out of her mindless bliss. She raised her head and saw a white van approaching the house. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. The angle of the van wasn't conducive to reading what was written on the sides but this was probably the exterminator. Oh, what a relief. Smiling, she stood, ready to greet the person who would deliver her from the squeaking evil taking over the house and stinking it up.  


From behind her, the door opened. Ben stood there, his eyes hard and jaw clenched. “Get inside,” he said tersely.  


“Excuse me?” Puck asked, more startled than offended.  


Ben didn't take his eyes off the van. “I said get inside, Puck.”  


“Is everything okay?” Puck asked worriedly as the van came to an idling stop in front of the house.  


“Fucking get inside,” Ben all but snarled.  


Flinching, Puck grabbed her stuff. “Jesus,” she muttered. “I was only--”  


“I don't have time for your feminist bullshit,” he said and turned a gaze so angry on her that she actually felt afraid. “Go inside and don't come out. If I'm not back in five minutes, lock all the doors. Do you understand me?”  


No, not in the slightest. But Puck nodded and then hurried through the door. She dumped her things on the hall table and then pulled aside a curtain to peek at what was going on outside. Ben walked down the stairs with an easy swagger that didn't match the intensity he'd directed at her just moments ago. The contrast made her shiver.  


The van's passenger door opened and a man with a ponytail stepped out. He was too far away for her to determine his age. Ben came up to him and put his hand out to shake. The man didn't return the gesture. For all of Ben's casual looseness, the man was wound tightly. They spoke back and forth for awhile and then the man raised his voice. Puck couldn't make out the words but he sounded angry. Ben shrugged in the face of this rage and it was too much for the man. Too quickly for Ben to duck, the man punched him hard in the face, knocking him over. When Ben fell to the ground, the man brought back his foot and kicked Ben repeatedly.  


Gasping, Puck dropped the curtain and made sure the front door was locked. She ran and got the kitchen door as well. What about the windows? Oh god, there had to be over twenty windows on the ground floor; would she have time to get them all locked by the time the man came into the house?  


Puck went back to the window and peeked through the curtain. The van was backing up and leaving. She didn't see the man anywhere. Maybe he was in the van? They'd given Ben their message and maybe that was good enough? As she watched, Ben struggled up to his knees and coughed until he threw up a little. Then he slowly got to his feet and staggered back to the house.  


She had half a mind to leave him out there but that was stupid. Puck unlocked the door and opened it for him. “Are you all right?” she asked.  


“Oh, I'm just peachy,” Ben said through a fat lip. He sighed and leaned against the door frame for a minute.  


“If you can be sarcastic, you're probably fine,” Puck muttered. He heard her and chuckled humorlessly. “I'll get you some ice.”  


“Thank you,” Ben said quietly. He made his way into the lounge and sagged onto a sofa, letting his head hang off the back as he stared up at the ceiling.  


Puck went into the kitchen and made an ice pack with an old plastic bread bag, a half dozen ice cubes, and a tea towel. She brought it back to Ben who held the pack up to his lip with murmured thanks.  


“So who was that?” Puck asked, folding her arms.  


“The exterminator,” Ben said.  


How dumb did he think she was? “The exterminator?” she asked, skeptically.  


“He wants to be paid in advance for the job here. I told him that we had no idea how many rats we have and how much work it would be. Besides, it's standard to do the job and then get paid for the work. As you could see, he didn't like that.”  


“Oh,” she said. She couldn't call him a liar. She would have just a few days ago but now it didn't feel safe to do anything except humor him.  


Ben lowered the ice pack and then turned his gaze on her. His eyes blazed a little too brightly and she had to fight against a wince. It was hard. “Hey,” Ben said as if what he was about to say was just occurring to him, “Your parents are doctors, aren't they?”  


She swallowed. “Yes.”  


“Do you think if you called your father, he could wire you some money?” Ben asked eagerly.  


So that's how she was going to get out of this. Her dad would have to pay. “How much?” Puck asked.  


“A couple thousand,” Ben said dismissively as if it were no big deal.  


Her dad would swallow his tongue if she asked to borrow thousands of pounds. He'd want to know what trouble she was in. “Yeah, that shouldn't be a big deal,” Puck said awkwardly. “I mean, I could try. I've never asked for that much before, so I don't really know how he'd react...” She licked her lips. “Um, shouldn't you just call your aunt and uncle, though? It's their house. Shouldn't they pay for...?”  


Ben started to laugh, ugly and loud. It sent goosebumps all up her arms and she quickly folded them, hoping he wouldn't notice.  


“My uncle would never want to pay that much, especially for something up front,” Ben said once he'd recovered from his outburst. “You saw that thug. Do you think he'd hold back on punching an old man like Uncle Roland?”  


“Probably not,” Puck admitted.  


“Exactly.” Ben leaned forward. “So what do you think? We'll go into town tomorrow and we'll call your father.”  


Puck almost told him that her phone was broken but stopped herself just in time. She didn't want him to know that she'd been trying to reach the outside world, that she was alarmed by her extended stay here. So all she did was nod.  


Ben nodded back and sagged into the sofa, raising the ice pack to his lip again. “Thank you, Puck.”  


“You're welcome.” She shifted her weight on her feet. “What time tomorrow?”  


“It doesn't matter. Whenever you want,” Ben replied.  


“Okay. I'll come find you, then.”  


“That sounds lovely. Thank you.”  


Puck nodded and then hurried out of the room. She gathered up her embroidery supplies, tossed the cushion back onto the sofa, and then rushed upstairs. She had to plan for tomorrow, had to decide what she was going to say to her dad and somehow let him know something was wrong without raising Ben's suspicions. Her head started to pound with a stress headache. She didn't have much time to figure anything out and Brahms wasn't available to consult with. She was in this on her own.  


Tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away. There was no time for crying. She could cry later. Now, she needed to think.

~*~

“Go stand somewhere else,” Tony said irritably. “You guys are fucking up my vibe.”  


“What's it that you're going for anyway? A douchebag vibe?” Johnny snapped, his arms folded sullenly across his chest.  


“I think it's working just fine,” Liam added.  


They were in the quad of Puck's small campus. There were a few students there for a summer session but nowhere near the crush that Puck had described earlier in the year. When they'd landed at Heathrow just a few hours ago, they met their Dad at baggage claim and gone back to his flat to drop off their shit. Then Tony had announced that he was going to Puck's school to ask around about Ben What's His Name. Johnny insisted on going too and Liam said that they'd just follow after Tony if he tried to leave without them.  


Tony lounged against the fountain in his tank top and basketball shorts, sunglasses on. He knew he looked good, had noticed furtive glances from a few girls passing by. No one was going to approach him, though, with his two little brothers splashing each other with fountain water and squabbling.  


“Just go take a walk,” Tony said, heaving a sigh of frustration.  


Johnny stood up and grabbed Liam's arm. “Come on, dude. We'll go see if the bookstore's open and maybe get something to drink.”  


“I want a Coke,” Liam said.  


“Sure,” Johnny agreed. He gave Tony a hard look. “You aren't here to pick up girls, you know.”  


“Yeah, I know,” Tony replied. “Get moving.”  


“Dick,” Johnny muttered then he and Liam started ambling away. Fucking finally.  


Tony made a big show of stretching, knowing that his top rode up and exposed his abs. He lowered his arms and did a move from Top Gun that had always made him and Puck laugh their asses off: he flexed his muscles while checking his wristwatch. He chanced a look around and noticed a girl not too far away from him, watching him as she walked along hugging her books to her chest. She was a little on the mousy side of what he considered attractive but she had pretty, bouncy hair that fell between her shoulder blades in neat waves.  


He'd have to use the beefcake to lure her in but play the sincere, sweet dude to get her to talk to him. Full on McConaughey. He raised his shades up on his head and gave her a warm smile. The girl stopped in her tracks and froze. Junior year, a girl who sat behind him in world history had left a poem on his chair for him. One line had said “your gray eyes mesmerize me, could stop my heart beating in my chest if you wished/ please don't ever wish it Anthony.” It had been flattering and he'd wanted to thank her but she transferred out of the class shortly after. He'd seen her around one more time but she'd hurried by him, pretending he didn't exist. So girls were weird, but he also knew the power of his eyes.  


“Hi,” Tony said with a little smile.  


“Hello,” the girl replied.  


Tony stood and walked over to her. “I'm sorry to bother you, do you have a minute?”  


She bit her lip, her cheeks going pink. “Oh. Yes, of—of course.”  


“Have you gone to this school very long?” Tony asked.  


“I'll start my second year in autumn,” she replied. “I'm only here because a professor I like is offering a class I need this term and in winter. I'm booked up for winter I'm afraid, so I have to attend now.”  


Tony kept a smile on his face but it was difficult. “I get it. I'm Tony, by the way.” He held out his hand.  


The girl nearly dropped her books but shook his hand with a limp, sweaty hold. “Jill.”  


“Jill, I was thinking of transferring here. I'm an art major but I wanted to maybe focus more on set design. That's where my passion lies, anyway. What do you think?” He tilted his head.  


Jill's face lit up and he felt guilty for thinking of her as mousy. “I'm studying set design!”  


“No kidding?” He grinned for real. “That's some coincidence.”  


“Well, you'd be wise to transfer here,” Jill said confidently. “The program is the absolute best. We just did Dangerous Liasons and it got written up in the London papers. They specifically said our sets were 'impressive' and 'indicative of the talent level emerging from the school.' My mum cut out all the reviews and put them in a scrapbook.”  


Tony chuckled. “Nice. I'll have to give it some thought. I already promised my mum I'd go somewhere else, we've paid the fees and everything. It's just that my cousin's been talking about his friend that goes here and he made it sound like the place to be.”  


Jill nodded. “Your cousin is right. It really is.”  


Tony glanced around the quad casually and said. “This doesn't seem like that big of a school.”  


“It isn't. It's quite intimate, actually.”  


“So maybe you know my cousin's friend!” Tony said, snapping his fingers. “His name's Ben. He's a big partier, everybody loves him.”  


“Ben Cooper?” Jill asked.  


Ah ha. Tony smiled. “That's it. I was thinking of maybe meeting up with him if he's in town. I don't have his number though, but maybe my cousin...?” He absently pulled out his phone from his pocket.  


“Oh, Ben's not in town this summer,” Jill said, shaking her head.  


“No? Gone off to France maybe?” Tony asked.  


“Not that I've heard.” Jill pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “He's taken his girlfriend to meet his family.”  


Tony didn't like the sound of that. He whistled lowly. “Wow, sounds serious.”  


“Yeah, apparently she played hard to get all year and then gave in at the end of term.” Jill smirked. “I don't know how she held off. Ben's ridiculously handsome. And he's so sweet!”  


“His family isn't in town then?” Tony asked, wanting to keep this on track.  


“No.” Jill squinted thoughtfully. “I can't remember where they live. Maybe the East Midlands? Somewhere in the country.”  


Tony shrugged. “Ah, well. I should just ask my cousin. Thanks for your help, though.”  


“Of course.” She hesitated and then turned pink again. “Um, if you decide to come here...”  


“I'll look you up. Definitely.”  


She smiled brightly and he felt a twinge of conscience. “I should be going. My class starts soon.”  


“Good luck,” he said and meant it.  


“Thanks.” She wavered still. “Do you maybe want to sit in on a class or...?”  


He shook his head ruefully. “I can't. I came here with my brothers. They're off using the bathroom and they'll be back any minute. We just thought we'd tour the campus first before exploring the city.”  


Jill looked disappointed but said, “Okay. Well, goodbye, Tony. Enjoy your visit.”  


“I will. Thanks, Jill.”  


He watched the girl walk away and then retreated back to the fountain. Okay, he had a name and a possible location. Maybe that would be enough for an internet search. Not bad for only one conversation. He raised his tank top and wiped sweat off his face with it, exposing his pecs in addition to his abs. Aaaaand _flex_.  


“Ew, put your shirt on!”  


Glaring, Tony looked around at Liam who was trotting to him with a bottle of Coke in his hand. Johnny wasn't far behind holding two bottles of water. He handed one to Tony and asked, “So how did it go?”  


“His name's Ben--”  


“Cooper!” Liam exclaimed.  


Tony stared at him. “How did you know that?”  


“We asked the employee at the bookstore if she knew anyone named Ben. We said we were looking for him, that he was a friend of a friend,” Johnny explained.  


Liam cut in, too excited to just stand and listen. “She got really upset!”  


“Upset?” Tony repeated. “Why?”  


“She said we were too nice to fall in with 'the likes of him' and then she clutched her cross all like--” He made a hard fist at his throat, bulging his eyes and loving the drama of recreating the woman's horror.  


“I don't get--”  


Johnny gave him a worried look and said, “Tony, she said Ben's a drug dealer. I think Puck's in real trouble.”

~*~

Sitting up in her room, Puck pulled together a game plan. Asking her dad about a dog that didn't exist had been her first thought, a move she'd seen plenty of times on tv and in movies. Her father was about as subtle as a brick though, so he'd flat out tell her that he had no idea what she was talking about. Instead, she decided that she'd call him Papa for the whole conversation. He was always Daddy or Dad if she was angry with him but never, ever Papa. Only once did she ever call him that, back when she was nine and had gotten hit by a car in her aunt's cul de sac in Vancouver. The neighbor's teenage son had peeled out of his driveway, not paying attention to the little kids playing basketball and he'd knocked Puck on her back. Her dad had been standing in the driveway sipping a beer but he'd thrown it to the ground and ran right to her, skidding to his knees on the concrete so badly that they'd looked like raw hamburger the rest of that summer. But she'd looked up at him while he'd cradled her head, urging her not to move. And with dazed eyes she'd mumbled, “Papa?”  


Her dad had stayed calm and in turn kept her calm, but later at the hospital she saw him in the hallway crying. He would know something was wrong if she called him Papa.  


It felt good to have a plan. She hated feeling so helpless. And she hated that she felt unsafe in the rest of the house. She set her sandwich plate on her nightstand, wondering if she'd have to eat dinner in her room, too. She'd lied to Ben about having a head ache so she could avoid having to sit with him at the table. Her face must have looked so miserable that Ben had worriedly told her to go lay down.  


More than anything, Puck wanted Brahms. She told him that she'd come check on him at lunch time so she made sure her door was locked and then traveled through her closet to his part of the house. She kept a sharp lookout for rats but didn't hear so much as a squeak. When she entered the room, Brahms was upright and dressed, watching the television on his desk and eating re-heated lasagna from a Tupperware bowl.  


“You look like you're feeling better,” Puck said happily.  


Brahms froze like a deer in headlights and then swallowed his mouthful of pasta. “Yeah, uh, a little.”  


That felt like a weird reaction. “Sorry to startle you,” she said, a little less happily.  


He cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, no, it's fine. I was just having a little something to-- since I didn't have breakfast, I thought I'd try... but then I'll probably just lay down for the rest of--”  


Puck watched his face slowly turn red. “Brahms, were you lying to me earlier about having a headache?” He didn't answer, just looked down into his bowl. “You didn't need to lie to me. You could have just said that you wanted some time alone and I'd have understood.”  


“Would you?” he muttered.  


Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”  


“I can't just tell you that I want time alone,” he snapped. “You have all these specific ways I'm supposed to communicate, phrasing everything in just the right way so you don't get your feelings hurt. If I want to be left alone, you'll come parading in her wearing, I don't know, plastic wrap just to get my attention!”  


Puck thought of the red ribbon lingerie and immediately felt ashamed. Then felt angry for feeling ashamed. “Where's this coming from?” Puck asked.  


“I'm tired and I want my space.” Brahms looked away from her.  


For a moment, Puck didn't know what to do. She saw a few different things at once. She imagined herself slapping the Tupperware out of his hand and lasagna flying all over. She imagined telling him that he wouldn't ever have to worry about her trying to engage with him because they were over. She imagined just turning on her heel and walking out without a word. But then she thought about the last time he'd pushed her away, when she'd had to come to him wearing revealing clothing to get him to speak. He'd been motivated by shame. What was Brahms ashamed of now?  


“Brahms,” Puck said gently. His hunched shoulders dropped a little but he still didn't look up. “Honey, talk to me. What's going on?”  


He didn't answer, kept staring into the bowl like it held the answer to all of life's questions.  


“I'll go away and give you the space you need,” Puck went on calmly. “I'm sorry if you ever feel “like I'm too much. When you want to talk, I'll be in my room.”  


He swallowed again and mumbled, “All right.”  


“Okay. I'm going now.” She turned and said, “I love you” over her shoulder.  


The bowl hit the ground and Brahms ground out, “Wait, I'm sorry, don't go. Please.”  


Startled, she turned to face him again. “What--”  


“I'm a bad boyfriend!” He exclaimed, his fists clenched. “I'm wretched and weak and I can't protect you!”  


Baffled, Puck asked, “Protect me from what?”  


“Ben was in your room,” Brahms said through gritted teeth. “While you were in the shower. He was looking through your things and I did fuck all to stop him!”  


Puck shook her head. “Honey, it's okay. We knew he was doing that anyway, right? Besides, there's nothing for him to find. All he did was look around, right? He didn't try to get into the bathroom, did he?”  


“No,” Brahms admitted, but he was still shaking with rage. “But I just stood there! I stood there and he could have tried to hurt you or tried to spy on you like I did, and I did nothing! I did _nothing_!”  


Her heart hurting, Puck hurried to Brahms and dropped to her knees, grasping her hand in his. “Sweet boy,” she said firmly. “Stop. Take a breath, okay? I need you to breathe. Slowly, okay?” They breathed together and Brahms's color looked a little less hectic. Puck kept hold of his hands. “He scares you.”  


Brahms opened his mouth to say something, his eyes flashing wildly but Puck talked over him, “And that's totally fine. He bullied you your whole life, goaded you into murdering your best friend and then set the fire that nearly ended your life. You have every right to be afraid. I'd think you were batshit if you weren't. I'm not going to judge you for not breaking down the door and delivering a smack down when you saw him in my room.”  


He was watching her now, his green eyes so wide and trusting, the tears welling there. He was so beautiful it took her breath away. “You're a great boyfriend,” Puck continued lovingly. “The best boyfriend I've ever had. Sure, I've only had one, but still.” She laughed and felt encouraged when he smiled a little. “Please don't be so hard on yourself. I love you and I wish... I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you.”  


“I love you, too,” Brahms whispered and his tears spilled.  


Puck leaned forward and kissed the tear tracks on his face. She pulled back and nuzzled his temple, then kissed the rest of the tears that spilled until he'd calmed. “Still want me to go?” she whispered.  


Brahms shook his head. “Never.”  


“Then move over and let me have some of that lasagna.”  


Laughing, Brahms made room for her on his bed and she nestled against him to watch the bad VHS recording of Grimm's Fairytale Classics playing on the television. Puck made a face when she realized what story was being told.  


“Oh, is this Bluebeard?” Puck asked.  


“Yes, I think so,” Brahms replied. “Why?”  


“I've always hated this story.”  


“We can fast forward to the next one.”  


“Which one is that?”  


“Hansel and Gretel.”  


Puck nodded. “Oh yeah, that one's way better.”  


Chuckling, Brahms picked up the remote and hit the fast forward button. Puck decided to tell Brahms about the scary visit from the “exterminator” and the upcoming call to her father. She'd only just gotten him to calm down and she wanted to have just a few minutes of peace, cuddling him and eating something yummier than the cheese sandwich she'd nibbled on earlier. Just once, she wanted everything to be okay. If only for the twenty minutes the cartoon they were watching lasted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Dream Police" by Cheap Trick. A go-to shower song for awhile now. :P
> 
> Episodes of "Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics" are up on YouTube, chopped up into multiple parts if you want to check it out. 90s anime that aired on Nickelodeon, I don't know if Brahms would have watched it but I made an executive choice to put it in the fic since it was my favorite show when I was like, six. My personal feelings are more important than accuracy I guess.


	20. I Know Some Tricks I Swear Will Give You the Bends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday so here's the next chapter for you all! That's how this works, right?

“Brahms, I need to tell you something.”  


He paused and looked over at Puck. She was worriedly chewing at her lower lip as she scraped at the remains of the re-heated chili he'd made them for dinner. They'd been having a good time watching the videos he'd loved as a child but he noticed she was getting more and more quiet. He'd chalked that up to tiredness but he could see now that wasn't the case at all.  


“What's going on?” Brahms asked.  


Puck sucked in a breath. “Did you by chance hear the visitor we had today?”  


“What?” he asked, alarmed. He'd spent most of the morning in bed sick over his own cowardice. “No. What happened?  


“A guy in a van showed up and argued with Ben and they got into a fight. Ben got beat up pretty good. He's got a fat lip now and I wouldn't be surprised if he's cracked a rib.”  


Brahms regretted missing that but said, “Who was this man?”  


“That's the thing,” Puck said slowly. “Ben tried to tell me that it was the exterminator because he wants money upfront for the job and Ben won't pay.”  


“Uh, I know I'm a wall-dwelling shut in but I don't think that's how providing services works,” Brahms said, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn't he just go find another job elsewhere if Ben refuses to pay?”  


She gave him a proud look that made him feel foolishly happy. “Right! Exactly. I didn't really have the nerve to call bullshit then and there. Then he asked if I could call my dad for some money.”  


“So you think he's been keeping you here sort of as ransom?” Brahms pondered that. “Or extortion, I guess?”  


“I think so. I bet telling me that he loved me was supposed to butter me up so that when he asked for money, I'd be happy to pay.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I was supposed to be flattered by the attention.”  


“It explains why he's been in your room,” Brahms said. “I saw him looking through your purse and he got upset when he opened your wallet.”  


Puck laughed. “Yeah, I don't carry much cash. At most, I have enough to pay cab or bus fare. I've got credit cards, though, but I don't think the people he needs to pay off take those.”  


“How does he expect you to call your father when the phone lines here are down and your mobiles don't work?” Brahms asked.  


Immediately, Puck sobered. “He wants to take me into town tomorrow.”  


“Oh. Wow.” Brahms looked down into his bowl of chili. “He'll probably make you call right in front of him to make sure you don't say anything he doesn't like.”  


“I've already considered that,” Puck said, making him look back up at her. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and said confidently, “I'm planning on using a secret code. My dad's gonna know something's up and then we'll be out of here in no time.”  


Intrigued, Brahms asked, “What secret code?”  


She winked. “Can't tell ya. It's secret.”  


He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, is it?”  


“Yup. I'll take it to the grave.”  


Brahms set his bowl aside and tackled her, making her squeak and drop her mostly empty bowl to the floor where it rolled along until it hit a wall. He began tickling her though she kicked and struggled to get away, cry laughing.  


“Stop! I hate being tickled!”  


“Then tell me the secret code!”  


“No!”  


“Come onnnn.”  


“This isn't the way to make me... ergggggh!” Puck growled and said in his ear, “If you don't stop, I'm never having sex with you again.”  


Brahms paused and gave her a skeptical look. “Really, now?”  


“Really.” She nodded and folded her arms protectively over her tummy. “No sex ever again.”  


“Somehow I don't believe you,” Brahms said.  


Puck tilted her head and asked, “Are you really willing to take that risk?”  


“No,” he said without even thinking about it. He lowered his head and kissed her softly on the lips. “You can keep your secret and I won't tickle you anymore.”  


Her eyes sparkled as she pushed his curls back out of his eyes. “I suppose you think I'm gonna have sex with you now.”  


Brahms tilted his head at her. “You're not obligated to have sex with me.”  


For a moment she only stared up at him. Then a smile slowly spread across her face. “That was the sexiest thing you could have said.” She started unbuttoning his shirt and he could only watch in confusion.  


“Er, I'm not sure what I-- oh!” Her mouth closed over one of his nipples, her tongue flicking against his sensitive flesh. He arched his back and gasped as she slipped her hand into his pants to stroke him. “Puck, you're so--” Her teeth nipped him, making him yelp and then come immediately in her grasp.  


Puck drew her hand out and looked at his ejaculate all over her palm.  


“I am _so_ sorry,” Brahms said, his voice trembling.  


“Why?” she asked gently.  


“You wanted to...”  


She shrugged and reached to his bedside table for a tissue. “So? You'll get another erection later. It's not a big deal, Brahms.”  


“So you aren't disappointed?”  


“Nope.” Puck gave him a reassuring smile and then tugged him down to lay beside her. She snuggled against him and said, “Do you feel good?”  


“Yes,” he admitted.  


Puck kissed his exposed chest. “Then I'm good, too.”  


Relieved, Brahms kissed her forehead and allowed himself to relax. They were fine, she and him. In their short time together, they'd gotten to know one another very well. He knew Puck better than he'd ever known anyone and there was still more he was going to learn.  


For now, he was fine with simply cuddling in silence. He stared up at the ceiling and began to smile.

~*~

Their sleep schedules were so out of whack, the Goodfellow brothers (the Goodfellas as they called themselves) had gone to bed not long after returning from Puck's uni to their father's flat. They'd reported their information to their father and then crashed, not waking until seven a.m. the following day.  


Tony shambled to the kitchen and nodded to his dad who was already awake. “Find anything?” Tony asked and pulled out a carton of eggs, low-fat milk, and various fruits from the fridge.  


His dad was seated on a bar stool at the kitchen island, his head in his hands as he tapped at his laptop. “No,” he said, sighing with frustration. “The name 'Benjamin Cooper' is far too common and I wasn't able to link the surname to any country house in the Midlands or otherwise.”  


“Fuck,” Tony said, not entirely surprised. He opened a cabinet and pulled down a blender. “I'll go back to campus today and talk to someone else. If this guy's as popular as we've been lead to believe, someone's gotta know something.”  


“Anthony, you're not about to put a raw egg into a smoothie, are you?” his dad asked disapprovingly.  


Tony rolled his eyes. “No, Dad.”  


“Good.”  


“I'm putting in three.”  


“Anthony!”  


“What? I'm trying to bulk up, I need the protein!”  


“You're bulky enough.” His dad gave him one of his disappointed looks. “How does your mother feel about this body building obsession of yours?”  


“She thinks it's dumb.”  


His dad got this stupid, love struck look on his face and Tony had to look away. “Well, your mother's a wise woman,” his dad finally said.  


Johnny came trudging into the kitchen next, rubbing both hands over his face. “Liam kept waking me up all night with his snoring. Can you switch rooms with me, Tony?”  


Tony finished putting his ingredients in the blender. “I'm sorry, what?”  


“Can you switch--”  


Tony turned the blender on and beamed at his younger brother, drowning out his words. When he shut it off, Johnny snapped, “You could have just fucking said no.”  


“Can we not use that kind of language please?” their dad asked.  


“Sorry,” Johnny mumbled. He opened a cupboard and got out some flour. “I'm gonna make me and Liam some pancakes. He loves pancakes. Want some, Dad?”  


“No thank you, I had some muesli about an hour ago.”  


The brothers shared a grossed out look and continued on making their own meals. When Johnny had poured some of the batter into a pan, Liam entered the room, bleary eyed and already complaining. “I don't like the pillows you gave me, Dad.”  


“What's wrong with them, Willy?” their dad asked as he sipped his cup of coffee and read the news on his laptop.  


“It's Liam,” Liam said sharply.  


“Oh. Sorry. Liam.”  


Liam's nostrils flared. “You're always calling me Willy. I hate it. My name is _Liam_.”  


“I know perfectly well what your name is, I'm the one who gave it to you,” their dad said archly. “As I recall, we named you William for your great-grandfather Goodfellow who died when you were only--”  


“I don't fucking care! Quit calling me Willy!” Liam's voice broke as he shouted.  


“Hey, dude, come on,” Tony said when he saw their dad was too shocked to actually parent. “He messed up but he's gonna call you the right name now.” He arched a brow at their dad. “Right, Dad?”  


“Of course.” Their dad looked at Liam earnestly. “I'm sorry, I really am. In my head, you're still a little boy, even though you're grown. It's my fault, I'll try to do better.”  


“Good,” Liam said peevishly. He crossed over to the stove and looked over Johnny's shoulder. “Sweet, you're making me pancakes?”  


“I'm making pancakes for everyone who wants them,” Johnny said, nudging him away.  


“Are we having bacon?”  


“Do you see any bacon?”  


“No?”  


“Then I guess we're not.”  


Liam sighed heavily and went over to the fridge. “Dad, do you have any bacon?”  


“There might be a little bit left in the door behind the mayonnaise.”  


“That's a weird place for it.”  


“Well, there's not much left and...” Their dad trailed off as he squinted at the screen. “I've found something on a Benjamin Cooper.”  


Tony hurried to his side, clutching his plastic smoothie cup. “What?”  


“There's a notice here that he's wanted for questioning. It's very vaguely worded but the police are eager to find him, whatever he's done.”  


Tony and Johnny exchanged a look and then both shot a warning glance at Liam. They'd decided to keep Ben's alleged drug dealing secret so as not to upset their father.  


“He may have just witnessed something,” their dad mumbled, trying to reassure himself. “It doesn't necessarily mean anything.”  


“Dad,” Liam said urgently.  


“Or it might not even be the Ben Cooper we --”  


“DAD!”  


Everyone turned to Liam who was looking flushed and excited. He clutched a piece of paper in his hand.  


“What?” their dad asked, finally acknowledging him.  


Liam slapped the paper down on the counter. It was stained with bacon grease so part of the writing was obscured but they saw enough to see “Heelshire” and “Brookshire, East Midlands.” It was in Puck's handwriting.  


“How soon can you boys be ready to go?” their dad asked urgently.  


All three of them sprinted out of the room, breakfast forgotten.

~*~

Puck jerked awake quite suddenly and winced at how she'd managed to wrench her neck. Brahms's bed wasn't the most comfortable but it had the coolest air which felt nice when they slept so close together. She'd been having a nightmare where she'd tried to go through a pair of tall wooden double doors but Ben kept pushing her away, telling her to go back upstairs. Puck had been terrified in the dream, knowing that whatever was on the other side of those doors wasn't good but that things would be far worse for her if she turned around and went upstairs.  


“Are you all right?” Brahms murmured.  


Sighing, she nuzzled his shoulder. “Yeah, I think so.” When he frowned at her she clarified, “Bad dream. I'm really not looking forward to going out with Ben today.”  


“It won't be so bad,” Brahms said, stroking her hair. “You two will drive into town, make your call, you'll use your clever code, and then you'll come right back to me. Maybe you can talk him into getting an ice cream.”  


Despite the seriousness of their situation, Puck began to giggle. “Am I five?”  


“You don't have to be five to like ice cream,” Brahms said a little indignantly.  


She quickly kissed his forehead. “That's right.” When she drew back, she wilted. “I better go get ready. The sooner I'm up, the sooner we can get this over with.”  


“Kiss me properly first.”  


Smiling, Puck leaned in and kissed him slowly and sweetly, cupping his face in one hand. He had this way about him, like he almost couldn't believe what he was doing, so his kisses were always hesitant, ready to draw away from her if she showed any signs of pushing him away. So he instinctively pulled back just as Puck was preparing to break the kiss herself.  


“I'll come back to you,” Puck whispered.  


“I'll be here.” Brahms gave her a little crooked smile.  


Reluctantly, Puck headed back to her room, hoping that nothing went wrong today.

~*~

Tony pulled the car into traffic amidst honks and shouts.  


“Careful!” his dad admonished from the back seat.  


“I'm totally careful. It's these London drivers who suck ass,” Tony muttered. He merged into the next lane without indicating and got honked at again.  


“I kinda don't wanna die,” Liam piped up from next to their dad. He was playing his Gameboy color and not watching the road. He'd learned a long time ago not to watch when Tony was driving.  


Johnny turned in the front passenger seat to smirk at him. “Only kinda?”  


“Well, on the plus side, I'd never have to take another math class again.”  


“All right, enough,” their dad said sharply. “No one's dying. Anthony, drive more sensibly, please.”  


“No promises.”  


“Yes, promises!”  


“I promise to try,” Tony said solemnly.  


“Sweet Jesus,” his dad murmured and closed his eyes.  


Johnny was flipping through the road atlas, keeping a finger to mark the page showing Brookshire and the tiny town where Heelshire Manor was located. It was like magic getting at least those two words and Google had put the rest together. Of course, they couldn't find any written directions to get to this stupid house, but they all figured they could stop in the town and ask a local.  


Once they were leaving London, everyone relaxed. Tony got into the rhythm of the road and was driving much better. Puck had been the driver in their family; Tony didn't have as much practice. Still, no one wanted their dad to drive; he was so nervous he'd sit through green lights, afraid they'd turn yellow.  


“I made us a mix,” Johnny announced, putting the atlas aside. They wouldn't need to consult it for awhile. He bent to retrieve his backpack and unzipped the front pocket. He waved a clear jewel case where Tony could see he'd scrawled “pUcK rEsCuE.”  


Tony wrinkled his nose. “I don't want to hear your indie bullshit.”  


Johnny flushed pink. He and Liam were more fairly complected than Tony and Puck, so their blushing always showed up better. “I've got classic rock on here, too, you dinosaur.”  


“Well, play it then,” Tony said with a shrug. He didn't mind the indie rock that Johnny played in his room all the time, the same kind of music he played with his band. It was fun to give him shit, though.  


Johnny opened the jewel case, popped the cd into his hand and then fed it into the stereo. There was a pause and then soft piano began to play.  


_Sister Christian oh the time has come_  
_And you know that you're the only one to say 'okay'_  


“No,” Tony said sharply. He flashed back about three years ago. It was Puck's' sweet sixteenth and Mom had rented out an old Seattle mansion for her birthday party. Uncle Elby came up from Portland with his band and they played in the ballroom. Elby had talked Tony into joining them onstage for this song and Tony had played his heart out on the drums. He still remembered how Puck's face had lit up, her hands going to her mouth as she cried, watching her little brother help play this song for her. All the hot girls from Puck's volleyball and tennis teams had been there and nodding along to the music approvingly.  


Johnny paused the cd, his face flushing pink again. “Look, it's a Puck mix so there's gonna be stuff on here that'll remind us of her. You're gonna have to deal with it.”  


“Not that one,” Tony insisted. “Skip it.”  


Muttering under his breath something that sounded like he'd rather skip Tony, Johnny punched the skip button. Immediately, bright jangly guitars started playing, the rest of the band joining in moments later.  


“All right!” Liam cheered.  


Dad smiled widely. “You kids remember this?”  


“You listened to this album every time you drove us anywhere for like, a year,” Johnny said with a smile.  


“It's a good one,” Dad agreed and then quieted when Matthew Sweet started singing.  


_You don't know how you move me_  
_Deconstruct me and consume me_  
_I'm all used up, I'm out of luck, I am star struck_  
_By something in your eyes_  
_That is keeping my hope alive_  
_But I'm sick of myself when I look at you_  
_Something that is beautiful and true_  
_A world that's ugly and a lie_  
_It's hard to even want to try_  
_I'm beginning to think_  
_Baby you don't know_  


All three boys sang along at the top of their voices and for a glorious three minutes and thirty eight seconds there was no more squabbling and no worrying. In that moment they were all little kids again, bopping in the car to their dad's favorite song on his favorite album.

~*~

Puck found Ben sitting at the bottom of the stairs. He was hunched over, rubbing his mouth over and over with the back of his hand. Hearing her footsteps, he sat up straight and asked, “Ready?”  


“Yeah,” Puck replied. When he stood and faced her, she waved her cellphone. “Got my phone.”  


“Perfect. Let's go.” Ben strode to the front door and Puck followed.  


She glanced back over her shoulder as if Brahms would come out to see her off. Of course he wouldn't. Before Ben could notice her hesitation, she swallowed hard and got moving.

~*~

With Puck gone for awhile, Brahms needed something to fill his time. He considered the nude portrait he'd begun but something red caught his attention from the corner of his eye. It was the bowl they'd knocked to the floor the night before.  


Snorting, Brahms got up to retrieve it. It had been sitting out over night and he didn't want to attract any rats.  


Something clicked in Brahms's mind and he fell still, nearly dropping the bowl a second time. He stared off into space for a moment and then slowly sat down right there on the floor. All the while, his thoughts whirled. It couldn't be true, could it? But then why hadn't...?  


He slowly pulled his knees to his chin and hugged them, the bowl tumbling from his hand. He wished very suddenly and quite desperately for Puck.

~*~

Ben pulled the car along the curb outside of a bakery. There was one woman inside behind the counter, setting up the register. Puck hoped they'd open for the day by the time she'd finished her call. Maybe she could get a donut if her stomach stopped cramping with worry.  


They sat in silence for a bit that was broken by the whistling of an old man walking his dog across the road. Puck watched him, wanted to get out and rush over to pet the dog and ask what his name was. Then she'd go get her donut and maybe one for the dog, too. Hell, if the old man wanted one, she'd get him one, too. Anything to get her out of this car and away from this man.  


“Go on then,” Ben said a little impatiently.  


Puck swallowed and opened her list of contacts and found DADDY. She hit “dial” and held the phone up to her ear.

~*~

“What did you mean earlier?” Johnny asked.  


“Huh?” Tony shot a glance over at Johnny.  


Johnny reached out and turned the music volume down a level. “I said what did you mean earlier?”  


Tony rolled his eyes. “I heard you but I didn't know what you meant, man.”  


“Oh.” Johnny looked back between the seats and saw their dad and Liam sleeping, chins on their chests and snoring in stereo. He looked back at Tony. “On the plane, you said that this wasn't all on Dad, Puck going missing. What did you mean?”  


Leave it to Johnny to remember something like that. Tony exhaled a long breath. “Remember that trip me and Puck and a bunch of our friends took last year?”  


“Yeah, Mom was pissed when she didn't get her deposit back on that RV rental. How did you manage to start a fire in the fridge?”  


“That's not what this story's about,” Tony said quickly. “Anyway, you know how Shane's been in love with Puck since like forever?”  


“Since you guys were in third grade at least,” Johnny said, nodding.  


“Well, when we made it to Grand Teton, he told her.”  


Johnny's eyes got big. “Oh, shit. How did that go?”  


“Well, are they together now?”  


“Shit,” Johnny said again with greater feeling.  


“Yeah. Shane didn't say much else the rest of the trip. And I got so fucking mad, dude. Just pissed. Like, Shane's awesome, right? He was homecoming king, he's captain of the football team, he's got a 3.8 GPA, and he thinks Puck walks on water. What more does she fucking need?”  


“Well, if she doesn't like him, she doesn't like him,” Johnny said with a shrug.  


“This dude's been my best friend forever and my sister demolished him in minutes. I didn't say anything, but I was so fucking mad, I was ready to... I don't know. Kick her off the trip and make her have to call mom to send her air fare or something. Anyway. Fast forward a few months and we're on the phone and she's telling me about this Ben guy who's hassling her and I tell her that she's being an uptight bitch and she should give him a chance.”  


“Jesus!” Johnny looked appalled.  


“I know.” Tony sighed. “She never brought him up again. I figured she set the guy straight after that. It took me awhile to realize she wasn't calling me as often as she used to, though. And her emails got a lot shorter. Then she's going off into the country with this guy and...”  


Johnny nodded. “Yeah. You definitely sucked, Tony.”  


“Thanks.”  


“No prob.”  


Tony sighed and stared bleakly ahead at the road. “I'll feel better once we find her.”  


“Well, we're on our way,” Johnny said. “Not too far--”  


A loud, annoying ringtone sounded from the backseat. It had to be their dad's; everyone else had customized ringtones and not the lame default the phone came with. Their dad snorted awake and fumbled his phone out of his pocket.  


“Please tell me you're not gonna take work calls,” Tony said, groaning.  


Their dad's eyes bulged out of his head when he looked at the screen. “It's Robin!”  


Tony nearly drove them all off the road.

~*~

The phone only rang twice. Then, “Robin?! Hello?”  


“Papa it's me,” Puck said, her voice shaking. She looked Ben in the eyes. “I have a huge favor to ask.”  


“Robin? Robin! I'm sorry, petal, I can't hear you. You're there aren't you? Is there any way... oh bugger all!”  


“I'm here!” Puck exclaimed. Although she'd been expecting her phone not to work, it hurt hearing her even keeled father sound so agitated. “Can you hear me?”  


Ben got a sickened look of realization on his face and she felt a smug little victory despite her father's anxiety. _Never should have touched my phone, you fucker._  


“Look, petal, if you can hear me, we're on our way! Your brothers and I are coming to get you. We'll be there soon, Robin, just hold on!”  


She shut her eyes and lowered her head so Ben couldn't see the joy that had to be shining from her face. Her dad was coming to get her. She and Brahms would be saved. Everything would be fine. Oh, thank god.  


“He can't hear me,” she said, her voice trembling. Hopefully it sounded like she was upset and not ecstatic. “There's something wrong with my phone, I think.”  


“Hang up,” Ben said, his voice dull.  


Puck disconnected though it made her heart twinge. Her father was in mid-sentence reassuring her still. She wanted to keep listening to it on an endless loop. Her daddy, the one who dropped everything and ran to her when she was hit by a car but then so easily turned his back not long after when her parents divorced. The thought brought tears to her eyes, made them spill.  


“Can I use your phone?” Puck asked him.  


Ben started up the car. “I didn't bring it.”  


The thought made her sick. He hadn't brought it. He was never going to let her use it because he didn't want the electronic paper trail that would link her to him. She thought of her dream, of Ben blocking the door. Now he was driving them back to the house and she realized that if her dad didn't reach her soon, she was probably never going to see him ever again. Not unless she and Brahms stole the car keys and ran away while Ben was asleep.  


Oh my god. Why hadn't she thought of that? Puck bit her lip, her heart racing. She'd search the medicine cabinets and see what she could find. Then she'd drug his lunch and when he was out, she and Brahms would get the hell out of dodge.  


They stopped in front of the house and Puck said cheerfully, “Well, that was a bust. Why don't we rest? It's pretty early. Then after lunch, you can grab your phone and we'll go out again?”  


“Maybe,” Ben said simply and started walking to the house. His steps were slow, like he wasn't really attending to what he was doing. Like he was thinking too hard.  


When Ben went into the kitchen, Puck rushed up the stairs. She wanted a few locked doors between her and Ben and she wanted Brahms. Once her door was locked up safely, she rushed through the secret door to Brahms's room.  


At first, she thought he wasn't there and her heart sank. Where could he be? But then she happened to catch something in the corner of her eye and there he was crouched on the ground next to a chili bowl.  


Puck hurried over. “Honey, are you okay?” When he didn't answer, she crouched down beside him. “Are you hurt?”  


He picked up the bowl and handed it to her. “Look.” His eyes shone with a feverish intensity.  


“Um.” Puck humored him and looked. “I'm sorry, it's a crusty chili bowl. If we let it soak for a bit in some warm soapy wat--”  


“They didn't eat it,” Brahms said. “Don't you see?”  


“Who?” Puck asked, frowning.  


“The rats!” he exclaimed, making her flinch. “The rats! The ones who've chewed through the phone lines and have made a nest in my parents' room. All these rats everyone keeps banging on about but _have you seen a single one of them_?”  


Oh. Oh, shit. Puck lowered the bowl and said in a small voice, “Brahms, what's that smell, then?”  


“I think we need to go see,” Brahms whispered. He didn't look like he wanted to do this anymore than she did. “Will you come with me?”  


No. She wanted to pack her bags, drug Ben, and get out of here. But Brahms needed to see what was in that wing of the house Ben had cautioned her away from. Whatever he suspected, whatever Puck wasn't letting herself suspect, he needed to see. He had a right to know.  


Puck grasped his trembling hand in hers. “Yeah. Let's go. Can you get in without using the main door? We don't want... Ben can't...”  


“I have a way in,” Brahms said.  


Together, they went hand in hand deeper into the house. Then they made a sharp turn. The passage got narrower the further along they went. The smell got gradually worse and Puck tried to hold in her gags. She held tighter and tighter to Brahms's hand. Was she trying to reassure him or comfort herself? Yes. Yes.  


Brahms paused and pressed his free hand to the wall. “Here,” he said. With one push, the panel swung open and they stepped out into a bedroom filled with dim light. The curtains were drawn, maybe in an effort to keep the heat out. Maybe they'd been left the way their owners had left them. However, the Heelshires weren't going to care if the curtains were opened or closed any time soon.  


Because in two wing chairs facing one another in front of the fireplace, sat the bodies of Roland and Belinda Heelshire, their throats bulging open in bloody, brown-stained gashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no Brookshire, I made up an English county. Sorry!
> 
> Lyrics from "Sister Christian" by Night Ranger and "Sick of Myself" by Matthew Sweet.


	21. I Wanna See You Burn Up In Flames

His parents were dead.  


His parents were _dead_.  


As many times as he thought _my parents are dead_ the truth just couldn't sink in. Staring at their lifeless bodies wasn't proof enough, hearing the ragged sobbing breaths of Puck next to him, the putrid stench in the air. They couldn't be dead. They were his _parents_.  


“Oh,” Puck said, her voice thick and watery with disgust and tears. “Oh honey, I'm so sorry.”  


They're dead.  


He took a step and then crumbled to his feet, vomiting violently onto the carpet. Puck dropped down beside him, a steadying hand on his back. He was sick until only bile came out and he spit to clear the taste of it out of his mouth and then he was crying, snot strings dangling out of his nose, and Puck stayed with him. She was crying too but she kept an arm draped over his back, staying close but giving him enough space to grieve.  


When his sobs tapered off to the occasional choke and gasp, Puck said, “We can't stay in here.”  


“No,” Brahms agreed and rubbed his arm over his face.  


“I have a plan.” She stood and wobbled a moment. Her face looked green. “Just give me a second.” She crossed the room to the en suite rest room. Her heard her being ill herself and he closed his eyes, his stomach rolling.

~*~

Puck flushed the toilet and felt a little better. She couldn't smell the Heelshires as bad in here but all the same, she tried to only breathe through her mouth. _You're breathing in dead people_ , she thought and her throat clicked dangerously. Luckily, she was through being sick for now. She focused on her plan and opened the medicine cabinet. She found a little bottle of Tylenol. That should do the trick. She could crush the pills, make soup for lunch, sprinkle in the powder and then serve it to Ben. When he fell asleep, they could steal his keys and be gone.  


She sniffled and gagged. She'd gotten puke up in her sinuses. She tore off a bit of toilet paper and blew her nose, then threw it into the waste basket where there was nothing but an empty bottle of Benadryl. She stared at it for a moment and then shook her head. She didn't have time to play amateur detective. She needed to get Brahms out of here.  


Puck went back into the main bedroom and found that Brahms was on his feet again. He stared at his dead parents with this lost, wounded look on his face. How could he love them so much after what they'd done to him?  


“Come on, honey,” she said gently and took hold of his arm. He let her lead him to his room and Puck tucked him into bed. “Just rest,” she whispered. “Is your bag still packed from last time?”  


“I think so,” he mumbled.  


“I'll check.” Puck found his satchel and unzipped it. After pawing through it, she saw most of his clothes were there. So was the passport. She slipped his VHS of Grimm's Fairy Tale Classics and The Secret Garden into the bag and then zipped it up. “Rest until I come get you.”  


“What are you doing?” Brahms asked, looking worried. He stared at the Tylenol bottle clutched in her hand.  


Puck sucked in a breath. “I'm getting us out of here. Go to sleep.”  


Brahms frowned. “Are you okay?”  


“No,” Puck tried to keep the shake out of her voice. “But I will be. Hold on.”  


Once they were in town, she'd stop at a shop and ask to use a phone. She'd call her dad and tell him where she was so he wouldn't go to the house and encounter Ben himself. Her heart clenched at the thought. That was too horrible to contemplate, especially since her brothers were with him. Hopefully just the older two and not Liam.  


Puck returned to her room and popped open the Tylenol. The bottle was too bulky to fit in her pocket so she emptied the chalky tablets into her jean shorts pockets. Satisfied, Puck tossed the bottle into the wastebasket and opened the door.  


Ben stood right there, a bright light in his eyes she didn't like. Despite herself, Puck cringed. “Jesus! You startled me!”  


“Where were you, Puck?” Ben asked slowly.  


Her heart thudded. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I was in my room.”  


He slowly shook his head. “No, you weren't. I was knocking. I was knocking for a long time.”  


She swallowed. “I was in the bathroom. I'm sick. I... I had diarrhea.”  


To her disgust, he lifted his head and sniffed the air. “That's not what I smell,” he said in a teasing sing song. He took a step closer and Puck skittered back a step. He wasn't deterred by this and came ever closer, barging into her bedroom. He leaned in by her ear and took a big whiff of her hair. “No, Puck. You know what I smell? I. Smell. Death.”  


“What?” Puck asked breathlessly, aghast.  


“I told you it was a rat's nest, Puck. But you had to go investigate, didn't you? I was all ready to play nice, have lunch with you, then take you out to the shops to buy a burner phone to call your 'papa' again.” He tilted his head, his eyes knowing. “Yet you have him in your phone as 'Daddy.' Isn't that interesting?”  


Puck couldn't draw a decent breath. Was she going to pass out? He kept moving forward and she kept backing up as best she could on quaking knees. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said, her voice high and trembling.  


“No? I just went to check on the nest and I found your vomit all over the floor, Puck. It's too late. I've caught you.”  


“I--”  


“I can't let you leave.” He shook his head, his eyes glowing with that deranged spark that made her want to scream herself hoarse. “You know too much.”  


“But--”  


Faster than a cobra strike, Ben pounced and grabbed her arm. “Come here, love,” he crooned. “I'll make it quick.”  


The wobbly terror was suddenly gone. He wasn't a horror movie villain anymore, he was the man who was going to kill her if she didn't act fast. Puck grit her teeth then screamed at the top of her lungs, driving the heel of her palm into Ben's nose.  


He howled and released her as his nose began to gush blood. Puck didn't wait around to see what would happen next. She turned and ran out the door, pelting down the stairs. She'd run out the front door, circle the house, and get in through the basement window. That way she could still get Brahms and sneak out. Fuck the car, they'd just run to town. They could do it; they were traveling light anyway.  


If only she'd done this weeks ago instead of waiting around for the luxury of a fucking _car_.

~*~

Brahms jolted upright in bed. What was all that screaming? He scrambled up, tangled in the covers and kicked his way free. Without even considering what he was doing, Brahms ran into Puck's room and then drew to a halt, gasping.  


There was blood all over Puck's bed.  


No. No, he couldn't lose her. Not her, too.  


“Puck?!” he shouted, not caring if he was heard by anyone other than her. “Puck?!”  


He darted to the door, ready to search the house when he heard the bathroom door swing open. He turned his head eagerly but blanched at who stood there.  


Ben clutched a washcloth to his nose, his eyes already bruising from the force of the punch Puck must have given him. Oh, if only Brahms could have seen it.  


“Who are you?” Ben asked sharply.  


Brahms was facing him sideways from his good side. Slowly, he faced Ben head on. He watched his cousin's confused, slightly frightened expression go blank. Then his eyes widened impossibly wide and he whispered, “Brahms?”  


“Where's Puck?” Brahms demanded though his voice shook.  


Ben just gaped at him. “You're alive. Little Brahmsy.”  


“What have you done to her?” Brahms shouted.  


Ben's face lit up. “You're the one she's been talking to. Oh, my. Are you the reason she moans at night? I thought she was a frequent masturbater but all this time, you've been railing her nightly? Well done, Brahms.”  


“Tell me!” Brahms slammed his hand into the bedpost.  


“Little Brahmsy still alive,” Ben whispered. He lowered the washcloth to the floor and growled, “Well, not for long” and lunged.  


And Brahms, to his shame and self recrimination, turned tail and ran.

~*~

Johnny had the atlas open on his lap, directing Tony into the town. They almost missed the sign, it was so small and unobtrusive, partially hidden by a low hanging tree branch. There was shouting and swearing and Tony backed the car up much too fast so there was even more shouting and swearing, then finally they were cruising into town.  


Liam had his nose pressed to the window as he pointed and tapped the glass. “There's ice cream!”  


“We're not looking for ice cream,” Johnny snapped.  


“Well, they might know where the house is,” Liam said. “Then we can get a cone later.”  


Tony slowed the car. “Hold on, this lady's trying to flag me down.”  


Everyone fell silent as Tony pulled over to the sidewalk and rolled his window down. An elderly woman with a slight dowager's hump was waving to them. Her eyes glinted as she said, “Are you boys looking for the Heelshire house?”  


“Uh, yeah,” Tony said.  


The woman nodded and then circled in front of the car.  


“Is she crazy?” Liam asked worriedly.  


“Everything's fine,” their dad said but didn't look like he believed it.  


When the woman got to Johnny's side, she opened the door and gestured him out. “Move aside, young man. I'm your guide.”  


“Now, look here,” their dad said while Johnny fumbled his seatbelt open. “You can't just--”  


“Dr. Goodfellow,” the woman said sharply, bending her head to look into the car. “If you want to see that lovely daughter of yours, I suggest you let me in the car. I'm the only one here who knows how to get to the Heelshire house.”  


Johnny hopped up out of the seat and then nervously backed away from the woman. Liam popped the back door open for him and then climbed over his dad's lap when he showed no signs of moving as he sat, flustered, and tried to argue with the woman. All he could manage though was “well!” and “Well, look!”  


“Okay,” Tony said, nonplussed. He watched the woman belt herself in then glanced into the rearview to make sure Johnny was settled in his seat. “Where to, Granny?”  


“My name's Althea Price.”  


“Cool. Where to, Althea?”  


“You'll call me Mrs. Price. Drive up to that stop sign and make a left.”  


Tony shifted the car into drive. “Yes, ma'am.”

~*~

Puck got in through the basement window with no difficulties. Her bruised leg wasn't giving her any trouble despite its bright purple and green glow. She consciously slowed her breathing and tried to quiet it. She didn't want something dumb like loud, scared breathing giving her away.  


After pushing at the walls for a bit,she finally found Brahms's hidden doorway. It was narrow but she made it through by thinking skinny thoughts and holding her breath. Once she was in the wall space, she drew a blank. Where did she go from here?  


_Stay calm. Just try to find a way up._ Easier said than done. How had the builders put in so many secret passages without anyone in town hearing about it? She pictured Mr. Heelshire gunning them all down in front of a trench in the woods to keep it a secret and scared herself into shudders. She needed to stop being morbid, keep her eyes on the prize. Go get Brahms, get their shit, then sneak out again. They had the home team advantage of having all these passages to hide in.  


With luck, Puck found a way up that stopped at the ground floor. Okay, that was better than nothing. Her celebration was cut short by shouting. She fell still, listening. It was Ben. Was he shouting for her? Why? Did he think she'd come out and be like, “Oh, hey, sorry for running off. Go ahead and keep killing me.”  


Her blood ran cold when she heard him more clearly. “Brahms! Come out, Brahmsy! I'll finish the job this time!”  


“Oh no,” Puck whimpered. He knew. He knew. He knew. She pressed her hands to her heart and worried for a moment that she was actually going to drop dead of fear. She noticed a peep hole and inched to it, hesitantly looking through. She instantly saw movement and flinched backwards. It took her a moment to realize it wasn't Ben she was seeing. It was Brahms.  


Brahms was shaking and panting as he slid across the floor of his father's study which was covered in spilled books and papers. His head whipped around, trying to find a place to hide. He ended up crawling behind a sofa.  


“No,” Puck whispered. “Open a window. Get out.”  


“Brahmsy!” Ben called. Puck slid down the wall and found another peep hole where she watched Ben stroll along, swinging a croquet mallet casually at his side. “Come out, now! I have a surpriiiiise for you!”  


Puck held her breath, hoping he'd pass the study. Nope. He ducked right in. The only place to hide in that room was behind the sofa, he was going to find Brahms in all of two seconds and beat him to death with a fucking yard toy. Puck couldn't remember the last time she'd been this terrified.  


Wait. Yes, she could.  


Way back when she was nine, right after her dad moved out of the house, when Puck was constantly watching The Secret Garden, Mom got worried and called Uncle Elby to come stay with the kids while she worked. She thought the babysitter wasn't engaging with Puck enough and that Puck was becoming too withdrawn. So Elby came and it was fun. But one night, Elby had a show and he refused to cancel it like Mom demanded. He said he'd just bring the kids with him. They sat out in the audience with Elby's girlfriend at the time which couldn't have been legal, it was a bar. Everyone looked the other way, though. It wasn't like they were ordering anything.  


Then Elby had said, “To help us on this next tune is my favorite niece, Puck Goodfellow!”  


Everyone cheered. Puck's heart had nearly stopped. She'd shared a horrified look with Tony and then Elby's girlfriend was pulling her up out of her chair and taking her Shirley Temple from her. She gave Puck a little push.  


Her skinny little legs shook under her as she made her way up to the stage. She couldn't find the stairs and everyone laughed as a bouncer had to lift her up next to Elby. He'd smiled and indicated that she stand at the microphone. The lights had been blinding and hot and she couldn't make out a single face in the crowd but they all managed to be terrifying.  


And then the band had started playing. It was a song she knew well, one she always sang with Uncle Elby. It was okay. He sang with her and she hadn't sounded bad. She hadn't sounded great, either, but their two voices had blended together and she wasn't scared anymore.  


That song leaped to mind as Ben took one step closer to the sofa.  


“We can't afford to be innocent! Stand up and face the enemy!” Puck sang loudly. To her relief, Ben acted predictably, spinning around and looking around frantically for her. “It's a do or die situation, we will be invincible!”  


He stumbled out of the office, shouting her name. Puck started running along the wall, trying to draw him away from Brahms. “And with the power of conviction there is no sacrifice! It's a do or die situation, we will be invincible!”  


Ben spun in a circle, eyes wild. Good. Hopefully Brahms was taking advantage of the distraction. She wished she could check on him.  


“Won't anybody help us? What we running for when there is nowhere we can run to anymore!” Puck was so relieved it was working that she didn't realize it had worked _too_ well until Ben swung the mallet right at the wall where she was standing.

~*~

Oh god, was she insane? Brahms recognized Puck's loud shower singing and grit his teeth. He'd been hoping she was unhurt somewhere but preferably that somewhere being _not in this house_ and definitely not alerting Ben to her whereabouts.  


He crawled out from behind the sofa and stepped carefully through the mess to the hallway. He made it in time to watch Ben pin point Puck's location and swing his croquet mallet. Hearing Puck scream in alarm made something within Brahms snap. Growling, he lowered his head and sprinted for Ben, tackling him to the ground just as he raised the mallet for a second swing.  


They hit the ground with two loud grunts. The mallet fell out of Ben's hand and Brahms knocked it further away. He pressed his elbow into Ben's throat.  


“You stay away from her,” Brahms snarled.  


Ben choked out laughter. “Oh, did Brahmsy fall in love?”  


“Brahmsy did,” Brahms said. He narrowed his eyes and added, “Ben did too, didn't he? The difference is she loves me back.”  


Dark hate twisted Ben's features and he used all his strength to try to toss Brahms off of him. It didn't work but it distracted Brahms long enough for Ben to bring his knee up right into Brahms's groin. Stars of pain exploded across Brahms's vision and he sagged, his hold on Ben's throat loosening.  


Ben flipped them over so Brahms's back was to the floor. Brahms was gagging softly, unable to move, the pain was so bad. Then Ben's hands were wrapped around his throat and squeezing.  


“I want to watch the life leave your eyes,” Ben whispered, his voice shaking with excitement.  


Brahms tried hard to will the pain away so he could fight but he just couldn't. Then, the croquet mallet swung through the air and cracked Ben upside the head, knocking him away. Brahms turned to watch Puck drop the mallet to her side.  


“That's for fucking up my school year, Ben,” Puck grated. “For every friend you turned against me. For doing whatever it was you did to make Nate stop talking to me.”  


Dazed, Ben scooted along the floor backwards as Puck stalked him. She swung the mallet again at Ben's ankle. There was a crunch that made Brahms wince and Ben scream.  


“That's for Emily Cribbs. A little girl shouldn't have had to die because you wanted to torment your cousin. Fuck you, you sick fuck.”  


She raised the mallet over her head and growled, “And this is for Brahms, you fucking-”  


To everyone's shock, Ben slipped a hand into his jeans pocket, took out a small pistol, and fired.

~*~

“No!” Brahms screamed. Not Puck. Not again. He couldn't lose one more person to Ben's insanity.  


Puck dropped the mallet, her hands patting at her body to find where she was shot.  


Smirking, Ben raised himself to an elbow. “Sorry, I'm sure that would have been a truly epic moment, bashing my brains in. But no, I'm stopping you there.”  


“What--” Puck choked out.  


“Oh, stop,” Ben said as he got to his feet, making sure to keep the gun leveled on her. “I didn't hit you. I was just trying to frighten you.” He glanced over at Brahms on the floor and said cheerfully, “Join us.”  


Brahms wasn't sure he could move. He somehow found the strength to rise to his feet and then inch along to Puck's side. She opened her arms to him and pulled him protectively to her side. He felt such fierce love for her at that moment, he just went ahead and buried his face in her hair.  


“Isn't that precious,” Ben said sourly. “Get moving. Upstairs. Go.”  


Puck supported Brahms's weight as they made their way up the staircase. Every move sent pain zinging through his balls. When they reached the top floor, Ben directed them back to his parents' bedroom and unfortunate final resting place.  


“On the bed,” Ben said. He shut the door behind him as Puck helped Brahms into a sitting position on the bed and then settled beside him, taking his hand in hers. He faced them, stared down at their linked hands and laughed bitterly. “Well. What am I supposed to do with two of you?”  


_Let us go_ leaped immediately to mind but Brahms knew better than to voice it. He kept a wary eye on his unpredictable cousin as he breathed through the pain that was settling into a dull throb.  


“You can let Brahms go,” Puck said. “Take me with you.”  


Ben and Brahms both gave her baffled looks.  


Puck shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, Brahms isn't going anywhere. He can't drive, he's afraid to leave the house. Who's he gonna tell? But me, I'm your weak link. You can't just let me go, I get that. All that's left to do is kill me.” She bit her lip and said softly, “But you're in love with me, aren't you? That wasn't bullshit.”  


For a moment, Ben looked lost. It threw Brahms off, seeing him that way. The hand holding the gun wavered. “It was bullshit,” Ben said but the lie was so obvious it was embarrassing. “Your parents are doctors. You had money so--”  


“There were richer, prettier girls at that school and you know it,” Puck said quietly. She gave Brahms's hand a squeeze and stood up. She went to Ben, ignoring the gun, and stopped in front of him. “I'm a danger to you, Ben. I know everything that happened here. You've been tampering with the phone lines. I bet if a repairman came out here, he'd swear on his life that it was done by rats.”  


Ben nodded slowly. “I practiced. When I should have been in class, I practiced shredding wires.”  


Brahms gasped as he realized. “Oh my god.”  


Puck glanced back at him with sad eyes and faced Ben again. “It's how you made Malcolm's death look accidental.”  


“I didn't like doing that,” Ben said, his face dropping. “Malcolm was...”  


“Why'd you do it, then?” Puck asked, her voice breaking.  


“I didn't like killing him,” Ben said and then his face darkened. “But I didn't like the way he looked at you even more.”  


Puck shut her eyes tight, her face falling. “Oh god.”  


“Don't put this on her,” Brahms snarled. “Fuck you, Ben.”  


Ben glared at him. “Shut up, Brahms.”  


“Come over here and make me.”  


Ben raised his gun and Puck said quickly, “No, no, please. Don't.” When he returned his attention to her, Puck said, “So what was this all about then? Money?” He didn't answer but she pressed on. “You tried to sweeten your way into your uncle giving you money but he didn't really like you, did he? But he was the one with the money, not your aunt. So, I guess you...” She trailed off for a moment, thinking.  


“I'll wait for your Nancy Drew conclusion,” Ben said, trying to sound slick but sounding tired instead.  


“There was a bottle of Benadryl in the trash,” Puck said slowly. “That last dinner we all had... did you drug us, Ben? I was so tired that night and Brahms was snoring. I never hear him snore.”  


Ben nodded. “It was in the scalloped potatoes.”  


“Oh, wow. I think we all had seconds on that.”  


“I had thirds,” Brahms admitted sheepishly.  


“That made it easier to slit the Heelshires' throats, then.” Puck looked over at their bodies, still seated in their wing chairs. “God, Ben. All that just for money? The lives of a childhood friend and your own family?”  


“No one would help me,” Ben said bitterly. “Not dear old Mum. Not my aunt and uncle. You were my last hope.”  


“I'm still your last hope,” Puck insisted. “Let's leave. We'll go to France. I'll call my dad from a public phone and ask him to wire me money. As long as I'm with you, my dad's wallet will always be open to you. We can even... I'll even...” She stumbled.  


Brahms hated hearing this. At first he'd been worried but when he heard her emphasis that they should leave the country, he relaxed. But this last bit was too much. “Puck, don't.”  


Ben's eyes were glowing now. “No, Puck, continue,” he murmured.  


“I'll let you-- You can--” she huffed a moment and then snapped, “We can fuck, okay?”  


“That's a very tempting offer, Puck,” Ben said. He tilted his head and looked her up and down hungrily. “My problem is, what's keeping you from running away from me?”  


Puck met his eyes with no difficulty. “You would come back here and kill Brahms. It's your biggest hold over me.”  


“Hmmm, not bad,” Ben agreed. “I'm guessing you already have a bag packed?”  


“I do,” Puck said, her voice dropping.  


“Go get it. We're out of here in five.”  


Brahms's heart raced. He had to do some acting here. “Wait. No, you can't—”  


Ben swung the gun on him. “You'll find that I can, little cousin.”  


Puck started to leave the room but really took a look at the gun. Her brow creased in confusion and she said, “Hey, isn't that--”  


Then Ben suddenly flung the gun into Brahms's face and the cold metal hit him hard, knocking him unconscious.

~*~

Adrenaline and fear had been flowing so freely downstairs, Puck hadn't really gotten a good look at the gun. Not until everything had settled down, when she was making her play to leave the house with Ben only for him to get caught trying to leave the country while his passport was tucked neatly away in Brahms's backpack. It was a good plan that she had thought up on her feet and she felt pretty proud of that.  


But then she saw the gun. The fucking gun from the prop department at their school.  


Son of a bitch.  


When Ben threw the gun away, he grabbed Puck around the throat, hard. She choked and tried to claw at him as best she could but she was tired and he was stronger. Ben marched her to the wall and pinned her in place.  


“Oh, Puck. You always have plans, don't you? You didn't plan on me killing you. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. I may love you, but I love my freedom more. Beautiful Puck.” He brought up his other hand and the pressure intensified. He slowly lifted her up the wall, choking the life from her. His eyes gleamed with excitement.  


_Think!_ she screamed at herself. She skittered her feet but she couldn't really kick out at him. Prying his hands from her throat wasn't working either. The edges of her vision were going dark and fuzzy. Oh god, she needed to think of something.  


Then she remembered the Tylenol. She reached into her pocket, watching Ben's face. When his mouth fell open to pant excitedly, she quickly grasped the chalky pills and dropped them into his opened mouth.  


His eyes widened and he began to choke. He released Puck and staggered off to the side, trying to Heimlich himself. While he was distracted with that, Puck ran to Brahms who was just beginning to stir.  


“Come on!” Puck cried, grabbing his arm. “Let's go!”  


Brahms was too whoozy to run. “Go,” he mumbled.  


“I can't leave you,” Puck wailed. “Come on, get up!”  


Brahms seemed to try but his efforts weren't enough. Ben had managed to barf up the pills and was making his way to the door. Puck cringed from him but he didn't even look in her direction until he was outside the door.  


“Fine,” he said. “I guess I'll have to do this the hard way.”  


He shut and locked the door. Puck continued to try to shake Brahms into moving.  


At least until she smelled the smoke.

~*~

Brahms snapped to attention when Puck was dragging him along the floor by his feet. What was she...? He turned his head and saw dark gray smoke belching in under the door.  


“Oh, no,” Brahms said, his voice wavering.  


“You're awake,” Puck said, then coughed. “Can you walk?”  


When she released his legs, he got to his feet. “Yeah. My vision's a little blurry.”  


“You might have a concussion,” Puck said. She found the hidden door and gestured him in. “Come on. We'll get our stuff and go out the basement window. We need to move, though. I don't know how fast that fire's gonna spread. How the hell did he set it so fast?”  


“He always carries a lighter,” Brahms muttered. “Since as long as I can remember.”  


They were quiet when they reached Brahms's room. He put on his backpack and Puck only had to open her closet door to get hers, resting on the floor. They both heard smashing and crashing from downstairs but had no time to speculate what Ben could be up to.  


Unfortunately they found out all too soon what he'd been doing. As they crept through the passage, they saw something they shouldn't have been able to see: daylight. The hole he'd created earlier had been expanded. Ben knew about the passages now.  


As they stared at the hole, Puck crept forward to peek and see where Ben was. As she did, he suddenly stepped into view and grabbed hold of Puck's hair, swinging her into the room.  


“No!” Brahms shouted. He launched himself at Ben and knocked him to the floor. The fall freed Puck but now Brahms was grappling with Ben. Brahms kicked Ben in the ankle that Puck had smashed with the croquet mallet and Ben roared, loosening his grip.  


Brahms got to his feet and put some distance between he and Ben. They ran to the front door and saw a large sofa pushed in front of it. “Help me with this!” Brahms said.  


“No, let's just go out the back door,” Puck shouted.  


Shit. Good point. Brahms started to follow her but Ben, fucking Ben, was upright again and grabbed Brahms. They struggled with each other, punching and spinning around the sitting room until they smashed into the mirror on the wall. Shards fell all around them and Brahms turned his face away.  


In seconds, Puck was in the room and picking up a lamp, flinging it at Ben. She came forward to grab Brahms's arm but Ben had batted the lamp away and engulfed Puck in both arms, pulling her back tightly to his chest. In a move Brahms remembered all too well from childhood, Ben got Puck in a headlock.  


The three of them stood there in front of the broken mirror, panting and watching each other warily.  


Suddenly, there was a pounding on the front door. “Robin! Robin, open the door!”  


“Dad, step back, I'm gonna just smash a window.”  


“Anthony, you're not smashing a window!”  


“I'm gonna go see if there's a back door!”  


“Dad, there's smoke!”  


A sick smile spread across Ben's face. “Brahms,” he said softly. “I'll make you a deal. If you kill any of Puck's brothers, I'll let both of you go. But if you refuse,” he paused to kiss the top of Puck's head. “I'll snap her fucking neck.”  


His heart clenched. This was how it all started. It was fitting that it would end this way. He looked at Puck and saw Emily there. She'd been so young, so terrified. Her normally apple red cheeks had been pale. Then he'd closed his eyes and brought the rock down.  


Not this time. He wasn't going to be manipulated again.  


“No,” Brahms growled.  


That was all Puck had been waiting for; her eyes glowed with pride. She brought her elbow back into Ben's gut and then sprinted from the room screaming, “Come on!” to Brahms.  


But Brahms didn't follow. He watched his cousin gag for air and then he knelt to the ground to pick up a mirror shard. This had to end here. If they ran away, Ben was always going to follow.  


“Buh- Brah-” Ben tried to say. His eyes widened at the sight of the sharp bit of metal.  


“This is for taking twelve years of my life from me,” Brahms said quietly and sank the mirror shard into Ben's neck.

~*~

Puck threw the back door open and stumbled over Liam. “Oh god, why did they bring you?” Puck wailed.  


“Hi,” Liam said, clearly offended.  


“Run,” Puck told him.  


They ran around the house and Puck glanced over her shoulder. Brahms hadn't followed her.  


“Robin!” Her dad was standing with Johnny and Mrs. Price on the front lawn. He'd really come. He ran to her and pulled her hard to his chest, kissing her head over and over. “Oh, petal, I'm so glad you're all right.”  


“I have to get Brahms,” Puck said. She pulled out of her father's embrace then shrugged out of her backpack.  


“Who in the world is Brahms?” her father asked.  


Puck didn't answer and turned and ran back to the house. She'd promised him she'd get him out of this place, that he'd have a good life with her. She was going to keep that promise. She heard footsteps pounding behind her and worried that her dad was coming to stop her. She really didn't want to have to elbow her dad in the gut but she would if he thought he could keep her from Brahms.  


To her relief, it was Tony. He ran up alongside her. “Who're we saving?” he asked.  


“My boyfriend,” Puck told him.  


“Nice.”  


On the back porch they stopped and stared upward. The fire had spread from the master bedroom to the entire back section of the house. It hadn't reached the first floor yet.  


“I don't know about this,” Tony said uncertainly.  


“I do,” Puck replied. She stepped one foot over the threshold when Brahms suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. He clutched something bloody in his hand and he was shaking. “Honey?” Puck called to him softly. “Are you okay?”  


Brahms shook his head slowly. “No. I... I just...”  


She held out her hand. “Come here,” she said gently.  


Looking like he was walking through a dream, Brahms took a few steps forward. He was halfway to her when there was a hideous creaking sound and the ceiling suddenly fell in on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Invincible" by Pat Benatar


	22. I've Saved Something Special for the Very End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I did not mean to leave this story hanging as long as I did. I had a bad couple of weeks at work and then I had other creative things seeping my attention away but anyway. Here it is! The conclusion. Thanks for your kudos and sticking with it, I really appreciate it.

Puck didn't stop to think. She didn't get her mental gears spinning, working out a plan.  


She just ran.  


“Puck!” Tony shouted but then immediately followed after her.  


The fire was roaring all around them and Puck held her breath as she scanned the rubble in front of her for signs of Brahms. He couldn't be dead. She refused to even consider that he could be dead. She kicked at flaming bits of ceiling and her toe knocked something soft. Beside her, Tony dropped to his knees and shifted some more rubble to reveal Brahms, pinned in place by a beam right across his upper back.  


“Guys!” Johnny was at the kitchen door. “Come on outta there! It isn't safe!”  


They ignored him and exchanged a glance. Puck pointed to the beam and then herself and then she pointed to Brahms and then Tony. He nodded his understanding and Puck grabbed the beam and started to lift. The heat seared her hands but she grit her teeth, panting but lifting. Her biceps trembled in protest. She'd been lazy about weight lifting this year and she cursed herself for all those mornings she slept in rather than hitting the gym. Now Brahms was going to die because she was a lazy bitch.  


There was a commotion to her left and she saw to her horror that Johnny had run in to help. He nudged Tony away and nodded at the beam. Between Puck and Tony, they were able to get the beam off of Brahms enough for Johnny to start sliding him out from under it, grasping his hands.  


“Oh, shit!” they heard Liam shout from the door.  


_God damn it_ , Puck thought as her youngest brother darted into the kitchen and took hold of one of Brahms's hands to help Johnny tug him out of the house. She wished she could help but she couldn't really feel her hands anymore. Instead, she and Tony followed her brothers outside.  


“He might have broken his back,” Johnny gasped once they were on the grass.  


Through a bout of coughing, Tony said, “Well, he'd have died of smoke inhalation if we'd left him in there.”  


“Brahms?” Puck croaked. He lay there, still and quiet. She started sobbing and coughing. “Oh god, please. Please, don't be... don't be...”  


Johnny knelt by Brahms's side and touched two fingers to his neck. “It's okay, he's got a pulse.”  


Relieved, Puck slumped against Tony's side and wept. She looked down at her hands, at the oozing blisters popping open on her palms, the burns going up her arms and stopping at her elbows. It didn't hurt yet but figured it would once the adrenaline wore off. She didn't care about that. Brahms was alive. Despite a ceiling caving in on him, he was _alive_.  


“They're back here!” Mrs. Price circled the house, running as best as she could. Puck realized she could hear sirens wailing. Two medics were not far behind Mrs. Price and they both ran to Brahms to check his vitals  


“You're all right, mate,” one of the medics said to Brahms. “Get the stretcher,” he said to his companion who ran away. “Who we got here?” the medic asked Tony.  


Tony looked confused. “Uh, my sister's boyfriend? His name's B-”  


“Benjamin,” Mrs. Price said over him. She gave him and Puck a warning look. “Benjamin Cooper.”  


“All right, Benjamin,” the medic said, not picking up on the weird vibe of the group. “We got you, mate. We're gonna run you to hospital and you'll be just fine.” The medic looked at Puck and Tony. “You two will need some seeing to as well.”  


“Yeah,” Puck agreed but stared at Brahms's still form. He was going to hate being called Ben. Hopefully it would just be temporary. And hopefully he hadn't broken his back. She immediately began crying harder and Johnny wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  


The other medic returned with the stretcher and Brahms was carefully loaded onto it and hustled away. “Come with us, you two,” one of the medics called back to Puck and Tony. They got shakily to their feet and followed.  


“Where's Dad?” Tony asked.  


“That old lady sent him off to call for help,” Liam answered. “He's probably on his way back now.”  


Mrs. Price didn't object to being referred to as “that old lady.” She didn't seem to hear them. All she did was stare up at the burning house, a hard look on her face. “You reap what you sow,” she said under her breath but Puck heard her perfectly.

~*~

Brahms still hadn't woken up. Puck sat in her hospital bed, the oxygen mask on her face and her burned arms and hands bandaged up. She sniffled but didn't bother wiping her tears away. There would only be more. They'd probably never stop if Brahms never woke up again. She'd asked her dad three times for updates and he said every time that Brahms was still getting worked on, that she needed to be patient.  


“Puckle?” a soft voice called.  


In disbelief, Puck looked around. “Mom?!”  


Her mother, looking exhausted and like she'd been crying, stood in the doorway. She gave her a watery smile and held up an envelope. “I got your letter.”  


She'd dropped everything. Puck would be surprised if her mother had even taken the time to call her boss and tell her that something had come up. Without even pausing to consider it, her mother had jumped on a plane and flew to her immediately. Puck's heart ached with love for her mother and she held her arms out to her.  


Weeping, her mom came to her bedside and hugged her tightly, kissing her hair. They sat like that for what felt like forever and it was wonderful. Puck didn't have to be strong, she could be scared and worried and not have to put on a brave face for a bit. What was she going to do if Brahms died? The thought was too bleak, she didn't even want to consider it, but every time she tried to put it out of her mind, it was there.  


“Robin? I have-- oh.” Her dad paused in mid-stride as he entered the room, his eyes going wide and awestruck at the sight of her mother. “Lisa. I-I tried to call the house but there was no answer. I guess--”  


Her mother let her go and then approached her dad. She stood in front of him for a long moment and Puck watched in interest. Movement at the doorway caught her attention and she made eye contact with Tony standing there, similarly bandaged up. She gave him a warning head shake and he said nothing, watching their parents with a hopeful look on his face that made him look a lot younger than eighteen.  


“You were there,” her mother whispered. “When it counted, you were there and you saved her life as well as the life of that young man.”  


“I-- uh...” her dad said eloquently.  


Then her mom stepped up to her dad and kissed him passionately, her arms wrapping around him. Puck's heart leaped in joy but at the same time seeing this was pretty gross. She glanced over at Tony and saw that he was on the same page, his eyes shining but also cringing a little. It got even grosser when her dad snapped out of his shock and started kissing back, one hand sinking into her hair and the other, ugh, cupping her butt.  


“Okay, great,” Tony said loudly. “Before this gets pornographic...”  


Their parents broke their kiss and his mom gave him a reproachful look. “Anthony!”  


“Dad was coming in here to tell you that Brahms, um, Ben's awake.”  


“Now don't get too excite--” her dad said but Puck was already ripping off her oxygen mask and scrambling out of bed.

~*~

Slowly, Brahms blinked himself awake. Everything hurt yet nothing felt real. He had no idea where he was; a room full of bright white light. He blinked a few more times and his vision came into focus.  


“Hey, he's waking up! Dad!”  


“I'll go get Robin; stay with him.”  


Brahms realized he was laying on his front in bed. Next to him in an ugly pine green padded chair sat a boy with dusty blond hair. Staring at him, the boy smiled, revealing a mouthful of braces.  


“Hey,” he said. “You were asleep a long time, man.”  


“Uh,” Brahms replied and then coughed.  


“Hang on, it's okay,” the boy said. He grabbed a glass of water off the bedside table. There was a white and red striped straw in the glass which the boy held to Brahms's lips. Brahms took several, long grateful gulps and then indelicately spit the straw out of his mouth.  


“Thank you,” Brahms ground out.  


“No problem.” The boy sat back and set the glass back on the table. He went back to staring at Brahms which didn't feel exactly great. He was about to tell the boy to leave him alone when he looked into his eyes and recognized them. They were the same gray as Puck's eyes.  


“You must be... Liam,” Brahms rasped.  


“Yeah, that's me,” Liam said. “But um, I don't really know who you're supposed to be. I've heard two names now and--”  


“You're awake!” Brahms couldn't turn his head enough but he recognized Puck's voice as she joyfully called to him from across the room. She rushed into his field of vision, kneeling by his bed and reaching her hands out for him. Then her face fell and she let her hands drop to her sides. “I don't know where it's safe to touch you. Are you in a lot of pain?”  


Brahms closed his eyes. “Yes.”  


“Liam, go get the nurse,” Puck told her little brother.  


“See ya later,” Liam said to Brahms and then left the room.  


Puck exhaled a shaky breath, tears spilling down her cheeks. “God, I was so afraid you weren't gonna wake up.”  


Brahms didn't open his eyes. “You've promised me anal. You're not getting rid of me so easily.”  


The nurse came in that moment with the doctor as Puck giggled uncontrollably.

~*~

There had been concern that Brahms was paralyzed but when the doctor poked Brahms's heel he was able to feel it, gasping in surprised pain. The beam that had fallen on him had only temporarily paralyzed him. The doctor, an old man who looked a bit like Mark Twain, said that Brahms must not have been tense at the moment of impact. Because his frame had been loose, the beam didn't do more damage than it could have. Also, the VHS tape that Puck had slipped into his backpack had snapped in two, absorbing some of the force.  


Unfortunately, the burns on his back were quite bad. They were second degree for the most part with patches of third degree burns. It would take some time to heal. He'd also re-burned his face but Dr. Goodfellow had told him that he'd take care of that himself once Brahms's back was better. Brahms had started to feel a little optimistic or at least as optimistic as he could be considering his parents had been brutally murdered, he'd killed his cousin, and his burning house had caved in on him.  


Then the nurse had cheerfully told him that they'd called his mother and she was on her way. For a moment, Brahms allowed himself to picture his mother pale with her throat sliced open. Of course that wasn't who was coming. They'd called Ben's mother because they all kept calling him _Ben_.  


Puck didn't. She didn't call him “Brahms” either. She mainly called him “honey,” her peculiar pet name for him. Her brothers also didn't call him by either name and called him “dude,” “man,” or “bud” instead. The hospital staff and Puck's parents, however, called him _Ben, Ben, Ben_. He hated it. Once his aunt arrived, though, that would at least stop. She'd put everyone straight. The thought wasn't a relief, though. His stomach was twisted in nervous knots as Puck sat beside him, her hands and arms bandaged all the way up to her elbows. They sat and they waited for Ben's mother to arrive and neither of them spoke.  


“Hello, Benjamin,” the doctor said as he entered the room. He glanced over his shoulder and then shut the door. “Your young lady is here, good. I wanted to have a word with you before Mrs. Cooper arrives.”  


“Yes?” Brahms asked flatly. He and Puck exchanged a _we're so busted_ look.  


The doctor crossed to the window and stared out for a moment. “I doubt you remember me. I was your cousin Brahms's physician. I treated his whole family.”  


Brahms didn't speak. He was staring at the doctor's back intently.  


“I've made a lot of mistakes in my life,” the old man said, his voice steady. “One of them was letting those foolish people hide their son away. After the fire, he needed real medical care and not the basic bit of first aid I was able to administer outside of a hospital. That decision led to three deaths. I take full responsibility, whatever happens. I just thought I would let you know.”  


For a moment, Brahms didn't know what to say. Finally, he said a soft, inadequate, “Oh.”  


The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, well. I'm glad to see you're doing well today, Benjamin. I'll be sending your mother in soon.”  


“Thank you,” Brahms whispered.  


When the doctor left, Puck whispered, “Jesus.”  


Another hour passed and then his aunt Bridget tentatively entered the room. She clutched her over-sized handbag to her middle like a shield. She didn't look much different from how he remembered her from his childhood, though she'd cut her hair shorter. She still had that perpetually worried look on her face, bags under her eyes.  


“Hello,” his aunt said and then looked nervously at Puck.  


“This is my girlfriend. You can say anything in front of her,” Brahms said.  


“Ah.” Bridget closed the door. “I've spoken to the doctor.” When no one replied to this she said. “So... my son is dead?”  


No one answered her. She started to sway on her feet and then caught herself against the foot of the bed, dropping her purse at the same time so it knocked hard into her knees. She clutched the bed frame tightly, her whole body shaking.  


“This is quite a shock,” she said, sounding dazed. “The doctor told me a little about what happened to you and I-- I can't believe they--”  


“Maybe you should sit down,” Puck cut in. She stood and offered her chair to his aunt.  


“Yes,” Bridget squeaked and then staggered to the chair where she perched on the edge of her seat. She stared at Brahms's face. “You really do look like him, you know. Your eyes are a little different and... anyway.” She worried her hands together. “The solicitor called me last night. All the Heelshire money should have gone to either Brahms or Mildred Heelshire. Brahms died in a house fire twelve years ago and Mildred was killed ten years ago on assignment in Iraq. Therefore everything goes to me, as Belinda's eldest sister.” She bit her lip and said quickly, “I'll give you half the money. It's only fair.”  


It would have been more fair to let him have all of it but he wasn't about to fault his aunt Bridget for taking what she could. As he recalled, she'd raised Ben on her own in a council flat.  


“You're probably wondering why I'm not more upset,” Bridget continued. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a long, shaky breath. “I am but... I'm not surprised, either. After the fire, when I was driving Ben home, I looked at him in the rear view mirror and I asked him what happened to Emily Cribbs. He laughed and looked me right in the eyes and said, 'I told Brahms to kill her and he did it. Isn't that funny?' For a long time, I convinced myself that it was a joke. It wasn't until recently when I found him going through my purse that I let myself remember.” She drew in another breath, looking so lost and haunted that Brahms wanted to tell her it was all right, she didn't need to say anymore. “I asked him what he was doing and he threw my bag at me and said, 'You've got nothing to show for your life, you stupid cow. I'd kill you but you're worth no more dead than you are alive.'” Her face creased with pain and Puck made a soft sound of dismay.  


Bridget suddenly shot out of her seat like something had poked her. “Well,” she said. “I think that's... that's all we needed to discuss. The solicitor will be in touch with you about the money. And that's... that's all we--”  


“Thank you,” Brahms said. He understood that she didn't want to see him again. The feeling was mutual.  


When Bridget left, Puck sat back down in the chair. “The sooner I get you out of this country, the better.”  


Brahms heaved a long, heavy sigh. “I agree.”

~*~

It wasn't long before Puck and Tony were discharged from the hospital. Their mother had rented a house in the village so Puck could take the train to the town and visit Brahms easily. When Puck wasn't with Brahms, she was up in her tiny bedroom watching The Secret Garden. Sometimes her brothers would join her, though most of the time it was just Liam. He'd been treating her like a hero since the moment they stepped foot in the house. Tony had seen the old fashioned tv in the lounge, looked over at Brace Face Liam and had said, “Hey, Erector Set, go sit on the tv and see if we can get cable.” Puck had watched her little brother's face fall, the way he closed his mouth over his braces and she'd said sweetly, “Don't listen to him, Lee Lee. He's just jealous because at your age he had braces _and_ a case of acne so bad everyone thought he had a flesh eating disease.” Everyone had laughed, even their parents, and Tony hadn't made any more comments about Liam's braces.  


She had trouble sleeping at night, worrying about Brahms. She knew he was going to recover physically but she didn't like the downtrodden look on his face every time she saw him. She didn't like the dread on his face when she arrived and then the false smile he'd wear for her benefit. A few times now she'd told him that he didn't need to do that for her, pretending to be happy and he'd said, “I don't know what you're talking about.” He always had to make everything so god damned difficult. She wasn't sure what to do and she decided to stay away for a day to give him the space he probably needed. It felt shitty to abandon him but it wasn't abandoning him if he didn't want her there.  


Sighing heavily, Puck turned off the movie as Linda Ronstadt sang over the closing credits. If she listened to the song for too long, it always made her cry. It was pissing rain outside so she couldn't go for a walk. Instead, she decided to go downstairs and make a grilled cheese for lunch. Everything looked better with grilled cheese.  


When she got downstairs, she could hear her brothers screwing around in the lounge. Hopefully they stayed in there; she didn't think she could put up with them today. As if they'd heard her wish they barreled into the room and Puck just barely repressed a sigh.  


“Hey, you hungry?” Tony greeted her. “I was about to make us some soup and sandwiches.”  


“That sounds great,” Puck said. She sat down at the kitchen table. “Can you make me a grilled cheese?”  


“Oooh, me too!” Liam exclaimed.  


“What am I, the butler?” Tony asked, opening the fridge.  


“Butlers don't cook,” Johnny pointed out.  


“Yeah, cooks cook,” Liam added.  


Tony laughed and took a block of cheese out of the fridge. “I'm not a butler and I'm not a cook.” He sang off key, “Once I was the king of Spaaaain!”  


“Now I eat humble pie!” Johnny and Liam chimed in.  


Just like that, the boys started bouncing around, Liam drumming on the table. “Once I was the king of Spain, now I eat humble pie, a palatial palace that was my home, now I eat humble pie, I'm telling you I was the king of Spain, now I eat humble pie, and now I vacuum the turf at SkyDome!”  


It was like she'd time traveled back to 1995 and they were visiting their cousins in Vancouver. They'd all gotten into this song and sang it constantly, usually with little to no provocation and it had driven the adults insane. Puck couldn't feel down in the face of their glee so when her favorite line came, she joined in.  


“It's laissez-faire, I don't even give a care, let's make Friday part of the weekend and give every new baby chocolate eclair!”  


They heard the back door creak open, their parents back from a trip to the grocery store. “I don't care if you're the King of Spain or a god damned pauper, someone come help me with these groceries!” their mother shouted.  


The four of them roared laughter and Puck got the germ of an idea.

~*~

“You're doing much better, Ben,” the nicest nurse, Joanna, told him.  


“Great,” Brahms murmured. She'd been helping him exercise his legs so the muscles wouldn't atrophy before he'd be able to walk again. He could move them a little on his own but his movement was still weak.  


She gave him a soft, understanding smile. “I know it seems insurmountable now but you're making progress. You may not be where you want to be right now but you'll get there.” She glanced at the doorway and perked up. “And your girlfriend's here.”  


Brahms closed his eyes. Great. He opened them and started to smile. Joanna and Puck were exchanging pleasantries which he didn't pay much attention to. Eventually, Joanna left the room and Brahms braced himself for Puck sitting down beside him, carefully asking him how he is, and looking so sad and guilty.  


Instead, she hummed softly to herself and then came and sat down beside him with a genuine smile on her face. It took him aback for a second. She was wearing her sundress with the flamingos on it and she looked... so bright and happy.  


“Hi,” she said.  


“Hello,” he replied.  


Puck tilted her head, biting her lip. “So. We need to talk and you're not gonna give me any bullshit, okay?”  


He sighed. “I don't give you bullshit.”  


“You do too. Fuck's sake.” She shook her head and sighed. “Anyway. It feels like you're giving up. Are you?”  


For a moment he considered lying but then he said, “Yes.”  


She nodded. “I thought so. Now, what do you think would be good for you? Anything you ask for, I'm gonna move heaven and earth to get it for you.” She saw the look on his face and said, “Yeah, it's a big ask. Why don't we start small. What's something little that makes you unhappy and we can feasibly do something about it today?”  


Brahms considered and said, “Ben. I hate... I hate being called Ben.”  


This didn't surprise her. “I thought so. Well, unfortunately we can't call you Brahms so we need a third option. What was Ben's middle name?”  


“Jack,” Brahms replied.  


Puck quirked an eyebrow. “Benjamin Jack? Seriously? That sounds like a cheese.”  


Brahms surprised himself by laughing. “Well. Bit of a story to that. Bridget wanted to name him Jack, his father wanted to name him Ben after himself so... he became Benjamin Jack.” Brahms considered this for a moment. “Don't know why the bastard cared so much. He left when Ben was three anyway so what was the big deal giving him his name?”  


“So from now on, we're gonna call you Jack,” Puck said. “Jack Cooper. That sort of sounds like the hot shot cop in an action movie.”  


“I can live with that,” Brahms said and smiled when Puck laughed.  


When they'd calmed, Puck said softly, “I saw the pamphlets left on your desk about counseling. Have you given it any thought?”  


“No,” Brahms replied. He'd forgotten those were even there, though the nurse had placed them in plain view.  


“Would you consider it?” Puck asked. “You can talk to me about anything but a counselor would be impartial and they could probably tell you about coping strategies and stuff. It could get you out of your head for awhile.”  


Brahms looked her over. “Is that what happened to you? You got out of your head?”  


“Yes,” Puck said and didn't expand on that. “I can go tell the nurses now that being called Ben is fucking you up and you want to be Jack. Do you want me to come back when I'm done or do you prefer being alone?”  


His heart fluttered over the fact that she was giving him a choice. “Please come back,” he whispered.  


Her smile was so beautiful he sucked in a breath. “Count on it. Jack.”

~*~

A few weeks later, they were playing cards when a man neither of them recognized cruised into the room like he had every business being there. Brahms disliked him immediately; he gave off the same energy that Ben had, trying to seem too cool for the room, so confident. Plus he had an 80s mustache that was just vile.  


“Hullo,” the man said. “You Ben Cooper?”  


“Jack,” Brahms said. “I prefer Jack.”  


The man raised both eyebrows like he was thinking _la dee dah_. “First I've heard that. Sorry, mate. I'm DI Benson. We've been looking for you all summer, B- Jack.” He turned and looked Puck up and down appreciatively. “Mind giving us a few minutes, love?”  


Puck bristled but she set her cards on the bedside table and started to stand up. She paused when Brahms said sharply, “She isn't going anywhere.”  


“You sure about that, mate?” Benson asked softly.  


“Yes.”  


The policeman shrugged a shoulder. “All right, then. I came here because of some missing money. Quite a bit of money. Your friend Powers wanted to keep it all a bit hush hush but his parents had no qualms calling us. What did you need all that money for, Jack?” He said _Jack_ sarcastically, like he knew full well that Ben had never gone by that alias previously.  


“I don't know what you're talking about,” Brahms said truthfully.  


Benson nodded slowly. “Hmm. Yes. I suppose you don't. Maybe you can answer another question for me. How is it that you're laid up here in hospital and down in the morgue there's a charred corpse with your driving license in his wallet?”  


There had been some questions after the fire but that had been done by local police and it had been quiet and respectful. This was a brash, young London cop who wanted to make a name for himself and he was either going to get this Ben Cooper guy to confess to theft and drug dealing and whatever else, or he was going to reveal the conspiracy keeping Brahms safe.  


“Brahms stole Jack's wallet,” Puck said sharply. “We already told the police about this. He'd been snooping through our room and taking things. Little things. Both of us were panicking about the missing wallet when--”  


“Am I interrupting something?” Everyone looked around at the tired looking man standing in the doorway. He was the officer who had spoken to them initially, a kind-faced but troubled looking man in his late 30s.  


“Who are you, then?” Benson asked sharply.  


“Detective Inspector Priestly,” the man replied. He stepped into the room and held out his hand. Benson didn't shake it so he let his hand drop to his side. “Who might you be?”  


“DI Benson,” Benson replied, his eyes narrowing.  


“Ah. Yes. I've heard of you. You were making quite a few phone calls this week, even though you were told repeatedly that this wasn't in your jurisdiction. Fancied a bit of a drive, did you?” Priestly smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. “I think it's best you be on your way.”  


Benson's face turned pink. “I have reason to believe--”  


“You have shit,” Priestly said frankly. “Go on, now. Your superior is expecting your phone call.”  


The pink immediately drained from his face and Benson marched out of the room without another word. Priestly watched him go and then gave Brahms and Puck a half smile. “I don't typically like telling tales before school but this time it was necessary. That boy's like a dog with a bone. It'll take his boss threatening to sack him to drop this.”  


“Thank you,” Puck said quietly.  


His smile became sad. “You two plan to leave the country, don't you? When Jack's back is healed enough to sit through a long flight?”  


“Yes,” Brahms said.  


Priestly nodded. “Good. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep a lid on this.” Puck and Brahms exchanged a glance. This was yet one more person who had known about Brahms's fate living in the walls. At this point, who _didn't_ know? “Anyway, I didn't come here to save you from overzealous young cops. I have a message for you from Mrs. Price.”  


Of all the people he could have said, they hadn't been expecting that one. “Mrs. Price?” Brahms repeated. “I don't even know the woman.”  


“Well, she said she doesn't know you , either. But she's spent a lot of time over the years near the Heelshire grounds doing some mushroom picking. And she said to tell you that...” He hesitated and then dropped his voice, “Emily doesn't blame you for what happened. She understands.”  


Tears filled Brahms's eyes and Puck went to him, stroking his hair softly. When they had recovered and were ready to thank Priestly, he was already gone.

_Three Years Later_

Brahms rushed to the dock railing and vomited violently over the side and down into the dark water.  


“Oh, shit! Is he okay?!”  


“Back up, give him some space.”  


“He barely had anything to drink, what the fuck?”  


“It's not that,” Tony said testily and stepped up next to Brahms to pat him on the back. “You okay, bud?”  


Brahms spat. “Yeah, I think so,” he said. He took the bottle of Mike's that Tony handed him and rinsed his mouth out before spitting it over the railing. “Does anyone have a breath mint?”  


“I do.” Johnny pulled some Tic Tacs out of his pocket and shook a few into Brahms's palm.  


“So what's the deal?” Liam asked. He was as tall as Brahms now and met his eyes now without having to look up. Brahms felt a wave of affection for the boy, the little brother he never knew he wanted, and could very well lose if... His stomach rolled and he coughed, clapping a hand to his mouth.  


Tony vigorously rubbed his shoulders. “C'mon man, you're all right. You're all right. You know she's gonna say yes, don't sweat it.”  


Liam's eyes got huge. “Oh my god, you're proposing? Tonight?!” He folded his arms. “Why am I just finding out about this?”  


“Because you can't keep a secret,” Johnny said.  


“I can too,” Liam snapped. “You guys are just dicks.”  


“We are,” Tony agreed. “But also you can't keep a secret.”  


“But--!”  


They heard the sliding glass door open and the sound of partying and Uncle Elby's band drifted out into the night. Their mom had rented this hall for Puck's graduation party but it was still too chilly to do much outdoors. Whoever was coming outside was looking for them specifically.  


Puck strode across the wooden deck towards them, her heels clicking smartly as she went. Brahms admired her. Not long after they'd made the move to America, she'd cut her hair short in a sort of punky do that suited her more than long hair had. Her eyes were ringed with black liner, something else that had seemed made for her. The New Puck still liked her color though and she wore a splashy purple and teal dress with ruffles that whipped around her legs in the wind.  


“What's going on?” She gasped when she saw Brahms's pale, sweaty face. “Honey, are you okay? What's wrong?”  


“He just had a few too many,” Tony said smoothly. “We thought we'd get a little air.”  


Puck searched Brahms's eyes worriedly and said, “Well, okay. Dad was looking for you. He wants you to meet his friend, Jeff. He used to swim for Columbia and thought you might want some tips.”  


When Brahms's back had healed all those years ago, he'd taken up swimming, something he'd loved a lot as a child. It had taken a little time before he could join a team though; he'd only been in school up until the age of eight. Liam and Johnny had taken it upon themselves to train him up until he could get his G.E.D. and then he applied to Puck's university. He'd tried out for the team and made it and, well, the rest was history. Somehow, Brahms had become a favorite and he had a small group of fans who'd show up with signs and blast “Jumpin' Jack Flash” by the Rolling Stones when his name was announced.  


“Great,” he said weakly and sucked a little harder on his mints. He couldn't have puke breath for this.  


“Are you sure you're okay?” Puck asked softly.  


Brahms stared into her eyes and thought _This is it_. He'd ask and maybe she'd say no. They still planned to move to New York together in August. He was transferring to Columbia where the swim program was better and Puck had a costuming job at the Irish Repertory Theater. She'd still be in his life, even if she didn't want to be his wife. But he was never going to find out if she'd marry him if he didn't just step up and ask.  


“So we're gonna go inside,” Tony said, clapping his hands on Johnny and Liam's shoulders. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.” He hustled his two little brothers to the door while Liam protested that he didn't need Tony pushing him around.  


Puck laughed and watched the Goodfellas, shaking her head. Then she looked warmly at Brahms and asked, “Are you ready to go back in? We can stay out a little longer if you need to.”  


“Yeah,” Brahms said, then realized that she'd asked two questions. “I mean, it's nice out here.”  


She crossed her arms and shivered. “Still cold, though. At least it isn't raining.”  


“Listen,” Brahms said, licking his lips. “I... I wanted to thank you.”  


“Me?” she smiled. “For what?”  


“For getting me out of the walls,” he said quietly. “For promising me a fuller life than I ever dreamed I could have. For keeping that promise. For sharing your family with me. I... I had no idea families could be like yours.” When Ethan and Lisa had gotten remarried the previous year, Ethan had made him one of the groomsmen. _Of course I chose you,_ Ethan had said when Brahms had expressed surprise. _You're family._  


Puck bit her lip. “We all love you. Well, I love you most. But that's a given. I think mom was thrilled to have one quiet, well-behaved kid.”  


Brahms laughed. “I think so, too.” He reached into his pocket, closed his fingers around the ring there. “But I wanted to ask you if... if you'd be willing to make me one more promise.” Her eyes widened as he dropped to one knee and raised the ring up into the moonlight. It was a garnet that Bridget had mailed to him, a ring that had belonged to his Aunt Mildred Heelshire.  


“Robin Anne Goodfellow, will you marry me?” Brahms asked.  


Puck pressed a hand to her chest waving the other at her face. “Oh my god. Oh... oh my god...”  


Brahms waited and his heart sank. “Erm, is that a no?”  


“What? No! I just-- I'm trying not to hyperventilate,” Puck sucked in a breath and then said through tears of laughter, “I was gonna propose to you next week after our picnic. I had the ring picked out and everything.”  


“Oh.” Brahms started to laugh too. “So should I wait for that, then?”  


“No! Gimmie that thing.” Brahms slid the ring on her finger as she said, “Of course I'll marry you. Oh my god. I told you I'd marry you. I've _been_ telling you.”  


“I thought that was just the anal talking,” Brahms said and she swatted his arm.  


“Shut up,” she laughed and then tugged playfully at his lapel. “Now stand up and kiss me.”  


He obliged her and they stayed that way, kissing and holding onto one another until Liam had opened the door and crossly told them to come back inside so they could have cake. Shivering, Brahms and Puck re-joined the party, just as Elby and his band launched into, “Summer Rain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics from "King of Spain" by Moxy Fruvous. It just sounds like someone's brothers screwing around singing and I had to include it.
> 
> Aaaand, that's all she wrote! I don't think I have another 20+ chapter The Boy fic in me so this is probably the last one. I'm working on a series of one shots that are waaaaaaaay darker than my "yay let's redeem Brahms!" fics so that's probably where you'll see me next. I've been working on my original fiction so that's where my attention will be from here on out. It's been fun, thank you for reading!


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